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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940656">of beaters and beating hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrytobios/pseuds/starrytobios'>starrytobios</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Flirty Miya Atsumu, Fluff, Hinata Shouyou &amp; Kageyama Tobio Friendship, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Kageyama Tobio Has A Cat, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Minor Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Mistletoe, Miya Atsumu in Love, Oblivious Kageyama Tobio, Pining Miya Atsumu, Quidditch, Quidditch Idiots In Love (But They Don't Know It), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, no beta we just die</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:20:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrytobios/pseuds/starrytobios</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quidditch is everything to Kageyama Tobio. </p><p>It is the blurred earth beneath his broom, the wind tangling with his hair, the oxygen in his lungs. </p><p>But Miya Atsumu still finds a way to make himself just a little more important.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kageyama Tobio &amp; Miya Atsumu, Kageyama Tobio/Miya Atsumu, One-sided Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>298</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. quidditch camp, first meetings and late nights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Quidditch is everything to Kageyama Tobio. </p><p>It is the blurred earth beneath his broom, the wind tangling with his hair, the oxygen in his lungs. That is why he prides himself on his position as a beater. Tobio has always known he wanted to be a beater, but from the moment he mounted a broom in his first year at Hogwarts, bat in hand, beating bludgers away during tryouts, he fell in love with the sport irrevocably.</p><p>Hogwarts was full of surprises, and Tobio became enamoured from the moment he boarded the train at platform 9 ¾, all the way through the sorting ceremony, to the first time he stepped on the quidditch pitch. </p><p>Yet the sight that enchanted him the most was the sight of a rival beater.</p><p>He was grace itself, piercing through the air at speeds others couldn’t even fathom. The deep blue of his fluttering gowns identified him as a Ravenclaw and a rather pretty one at that. The strength of his swing sent bludgers flying, causing a loud smack to resound through the air and Tobio's stomach to flip. </p><p>He had never seen anything like it-- like <em>him</em>. </p><p>The way his dainty fingers curled around his bat was distracting, and his skill alone was enough to make the first year dizzy, but on top of that, he just <em>had</em> to have a magnetic presence, drawing everyone to him. Tobio had never felt anything like this; heart hammering, cheeks heated, wholly captivated by one Oikawa Tooru.</p><p>He never fully understood the extent of his admiration for Oikawa, deeming it as a beater to beater appreciation. But it wasn’t long before he found it sorely unrequited, a one-way lane of praise met with pulled faces, and condescending remarks artificially sweetened with mocking calls of <em>Tobio-chan</em>. It was bad enough that his team seniors despised him for some reason, but, <em>of course</em>, the heavens weren't happy with him struggling to fit in with the Gryffindor team. That was clearly not enough suffering in their eyes. They had to make sure the one beater Tobio wanted to learn from hated him too, also for unknown reasons.</p><p> If he could fight whatever deities were behind this, he would (more than enthusiastically). </p><p>Requests for Oikawa to teach Tobio his killer swing were met with disdain, but he could live with that. He figured that he would eventually break down the walls Oikawa maintained so strictly, but what he couldn't stand was the moment his team turned their backs on him. </p><p>A team of six, sneering down at the first-year beater they no longer wanted around. Utter rejection. Tobio had never been afraid of anything until that day, but from then on, seeing Oikawa shut him down stung in a new way, a way that reminded him of a team that had benched him for the foreseeable future. </p><p>And so, Kageyama Tobio’s bright start at a quidditch career fizzled out. He could do nothing more than keep playing in team practice and free time, hoping desperately for the chance to be a regular once again. </p><p>In short, his first year at Hogwarts was shit. </p><p>(Yachi, a Hufflepuff first-year he somehow managed to befriend would say that only the Quidditch part of his school life sucked, but Quidditch was the only thing that mattered, so her point was irrelevant).</p><p>But it turned out he wasn't the only first-year Gryffindor with an insatiable hunger for the sport. </p><p>Hinata Shouyou was short, loud and brimming with unlimited energy. </p><p>Though he was what Tobio (endearingly but also not so endearingly) called a <em>dumbass, </em>he was insanely quick, moving at speeds that should have been inhuman. He was a challenge to keep up with, but when they trained together, Kageyama felt a rush like no other. Which only made being in reserve with him more frustrating. The team could use them, but the seventh-years didn't even entertain the idea of it.</p><p>(What he thought would only last a few months, spiralled into the entire year, then two years and then three, and Hogwarts began to look a little less magical than what he had thought it was).</p><p>So when they spent the next three years held back by a team that was ideally supposed to prop them up, it was Hinata Shouyou who played quidditch with Kageyama when no one else would.</p><p>It was also Hinata Shouyou who unapologetically unveiled to Tobio what the feelings he harboured for Oikawa were.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"You've got a crush on him, don't you?" He asked the question so casually, leaning against the stands at a Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match they were forced to watch one day in their third year.</p><p>(Instead of play, which is all they really wanted to do. They had been turned away from the tryouts yet again, and Tobio swore Hinata was moments away from using a forbidden curse on the assholes in charge. If he did, he wouldn’t have blamed him).</p><p>"<em>W-what</em>? What the fuck are you on about dumbass?" Tobio stuck his hand out, attempting to yank Hinata by those unnaturally ginger locks of his. The shorter boy ducked, escaping Kageyama's deadly grip by a fraction of a hair, and chuckled teasingly.</p><p>"<em>Oikawa</em>. You look at him with the most whipped look in your eyes. It almost makes me feel sick." Hinata mimed gagging, and then flinched, expecting his friend to call him a '<em>dumbass'</em> and shake him violently by the collar. Instead, he was met with a rather strange outcome.</p><p>Tobio stood still, so still that Hinata was unsure of whether he was breathing. His face paled, mouth contorting into a lost and wobbly frown, and realisation began to set in his clouded azure eyes. A breathless exclamation of <em>‘oh’</em> slipped from his lips as his gaze locked onto the boy in question. Suddenly, everything made a lot more sense to Tobio.</p><p>He liked Oikawa-- <em>like</em> liked. </p><p>What. The. <em>Fuck</em>. </p><p>Why wouldn't the earth open up and swallow him? Why did it have to be Oikawa of all people? </p><p>Sure, he was objectively one of the most gorgeous people he had run into. And yes, he was an astonishing beater with a shrewd sense of teamwork that Tobio could only dream of achieving. And of course, Tobio looked up to him in a way that he didn't look up to anyone else. And his smile was enchanting when it wasn't aimed at him. And his hair looked unbelievably soft. And his hands were probably calloused from years of Quidditch. And he wondered how it would feel to hold them. And-- Oh. </p><p><em>Oh god</em>. </p><p>This wasn't good. Just how long had he felt like this about a guy who couldn't stand the sight of his face?</p><p>"Don't worry Kageyama-kun, your secret is safe with me." Hinata shot Tobio a wink and was rewarded with a smack across the back of his head. Which he admitted that he may have deserved. Just a little bit. (Not out loud though; he'd never let Tobio get the satisfaction of being right).</p><p>So the rest of Tobio's third year was filled with Hinata's relentless teasing, Oikawa brushing his requests for extra practice away by teasing him until Iwaizumi (a Gryffindor chaser with a liking towards the obnoxious Ravenclaw beater) dragged him away, and no place on the starting lineup.</p><p>Yet again.</p><p>Which sucked for the third year in a row. But his stupid crush on Oikawa made third year the worst year by far because no matter how <em>unbearably</em> bothersome he was, Tobio's eyes involuntarily identified him in every crowd and his brain proceeded to fawn over him. Which was totally shitty.</p><p>And that year, Kageyama was extra happy to get away from Hogwarts for summer break.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>By the time his fourth year rolled around, Tobio felt a little resigned about going back to Hogwarts and a quidditch team that quite obviously didn't want him. But he was met with pleasant surprises.</p><p>The first pleasant surprise was that the seniors who weren’t so fond of Tobio and Hinata were <em>finally</em> gone. (Hinata had screamed <em>good riddance</em> at the top of his lungs when they had learned that any remainders had quit to focus on their NEWTs). </p><p>The second was that the new captain was Daichi Sawamura, a sixth-year keen on finally winning the house cup for Gryffindor after years of crippling losses and talent squandered at the hands of upperclassmen who didn't run the team properly. </p><p>Another surprise was that his vice-captain was Iwaizumi.</p><p>And, Iwaizumi, Kageyama soon came to realise, was nothing like his Ravenclaw friend. He was considerate, strong-willed, and genuinely a marvellous chaser. But most of all, he didn’t hate Kageyama, which came as a bit of a shock. Though he didn’t take it for granted, <em>especially</em> when he and Hinata got released from reserves.</p><p>It took four years, but things were finally looking up for Tobio, and not even his increasingly irritating crush on Oikawa could ruin it. Practice matches became less difficult, the years of playing with Hinata at every occasion kept Kageyama’s senses honed, making quidditch second nature; it took as much thought as breathing did.</p><p>When the Inter-House Cup kicked off in the second week of November, Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff even though their chaser Bokuto proved to be a persistent hurdle. The score was way too close for comfort, and Gryffindor figured that without their speedy seeker, Nishinoya Yuu, their first game would have been a crippling loss.</p><p>Tobio savoured every moment of that game, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he struck bludgers and created paths for his chasers. He felt like he was on top of the world, finally playing- breathing- <em>existing</em> for the first time since he arrived at Hogwarts.</p><p>That was when he fell in love with quidditch all over again. It was the air in his lungs, the earth blurred at his feet, the wind tangling with his hair. And now, it was the dream of playing on the world stage -- renewed once again.</p><p>And his efforts did not go unrecognised. By the end of November, he was selected to partake in exclusive training with a coach for the national team, who was interested in reviewing the new generation of quidditch players. His dream was closer than ever, almost real between his fingertips, paths opening all around him. All he had to do now was keep playing, keep winning, and when he left school, there would always be <em>someone</em> out there who wanted him to play for them. Hopefully.</p><p>(And although Hinata showed his jealousy outright, Kageyama couldn’t blame him: this was a big deal).</p><p>He came to the conclusion that his fourth year was better than the rest of his time at Hogwarts by leaps and bounds.</p><p>Things were at an all-time high. They were so great that not even Oikawa glowering at him after their win against Hufflepuff could ruin it.</p><p>That was until he met Miya Atsumu, a fifth-year Slytherin beater, and his wave of pleasant surprises deserted him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Miya Atsumu had heard a lot about the new Gryffindor beater, Kageyama Tobio.</p><p>Apparently, he was an aggressive player that might finally save his team from their streak of yearly losses. He came with a crowd of loud and dynamic characters but maintained a collected and blunt demeanour. </p><p>Atsumu thought guys like that just needed a bit of fun in their lives. Seriously, how could anyone resist teasing the hell out of them? </p><p>His twin brother had the gall to joke that this newcomer could possibly rival Atsumu’s position as the best beater in Hogwarts. That particular comment rubbed him the wrong way and he hadn’t taken it so well. Their conversation <em>might</em> have ended with uncivil insults exchanged along with explicit language before a Slytherin prefect, Kita Shinsuke, separated the two of them.</p><p>Nevertheless, if Atsumu was one hundred percent honest about it, a minuscule part of him fastened onto the notion of a real rival. He was not full of himself or anything -- which Osamu might have said was arguable -- but people who could come close to his skill were in short supply. And maybe, just <em>maybe</em>, he was excited to size up the competition.</p><p>That enthusiasm only amplified tenfold when he settled in the East Wing for the quidditch training camp and set his eyes on his supposed rival in the flesh. Because <em>Jesus</em>. If looks could kill, Tobio might have struck him down that very instant. His blackened stare was inviting, and not in the sense that he wanted to make friends and converse over tea. But, more so, that he would rebuke any competition without hesitation, and Atsumu, being Atsumu, loved a challenge.</p><p>And yet he was <em>severely</em> disappointed. </p><p>Those intense glares, choppy bangs and forthright answers were all a front because the real Kageyama Tobio was a beater that had all the talent in the world and was still held back by something, much to Atsumu's dismay.</p><p>There weren't enough expletives in the world to even come <em>close</em> to successfully conveying Atsumu's frustration. To see the raw skill Tobio possessed squandered at his own hands made him nauseous. With the way he zoomed across the pitch at daring speeds and hit bludgers with pinpoint accuracy -- which was, frankly, magnificent -- he could have any opposition dancing to his tune. He did to some degree. But he played like he was scared of something. </p><p>What the hell was up with that? How could a beater who was afraid protect the team around him? <em>This</em> is who Osamu thought could rival him?</p><p>There was nothing wrong with Tobio; he seemed like a good kid. But did he actually enjoy being a beater? That grimace on his face when he played said otherwise.</p><p><em>Maybe things are different with his actual team, </em>Atsumu thought, eyes locked onto the Gryffindor beater who was politely asking if he needed to hit bludgers away in any specific style to clear the way for Sakusa, a Ravenclaw chaser.</p><p>Atsumu snorted to himself as the fourth-year sped past him on his broom, knocking the bludger off its trajectory. </p><p>Tobio's swing reminded him of a certain Ravenclaw who had way too much of enmity with Ushijima Wakatoshi, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. (It <em>had</em> to be unhealthy to want to defeat someone that desperately). </p><p>For a guy like Oikawa Tooru's pupil, Kageyama was way too much of a goody-two-shoes. He had thought the first thing Oikawa taught would be his imaginative insults; Tobio, though, didn't have an agitating vibe around him. </p><p><em>Pity</em>, Atsumu thought, <em>it could have been fun to try out-mock him</em>.</p><p>He noticed a stray bludger heading in Hoshiumi's direction. With one clean strike, Atsumu sent it flying back towards the other side of the pitch. It was then that he felt as though he was being watched rather closely. Looking up, he caught his favourite little fourth-year Gryffindor staring at him and smirked. </p><p>
  <em>Is it that easy to impress him? How cute.</em>
</p><p>Despite his outward display of smugness, he would be lying if he said that voracious look Tobio was giving him didn’t make him want to observe him just a little more. The slight hint of wonder interspersed with the cerulean hues of his eyes sent chills down Atsumu's spine. He would be lying <em>through his teeth</em> if he said that his commitment to the game was not amusing (and perhaps just a little bit endearing). </p><p>Kageyama’s natural talent was boundless, and that both pissed Atsumu off and entertained him to no end. In the end, he could do nothing more than stare back. What else were you meant to do with a pureblood prodigy?</p><p>Now, if only he didn’t play like he was afraid of something.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Atsumu was honestly stunned that he managed to go three whole days without opening his mouth. (Osamu always did say he had the patience of a toddler).</p><p> It wasn't as if there weren't any opportunities to talk to Tobio: they had all been excused from lessons and were staying in the same hall as well. And it also wasn't as if Tobio was remarkably popular or talkative either, so was often seated with just a Hufflepuff keeper. It would have been easy to steal him away for a conversation or two. And yet it took Atsumu <em>three whole days</em> to approach him with the intent to say something. </p><p>The younger boy was seated on the grass, legs splayed out as he stretched, recovering from the last game they had played. His broom, a Nimbus 2000, was haphazardly deposited in front of him. Beside him, Hoshiumi, a fellow Slytherin, was yapping on about something in a rather one-sided conversation with Sakusa, who looked like he was going to pass out from all the social interaction until Komori joined in to talk for him.</p><p>"Hey, Tobio-kun," Atsumu offered a casual wave before looking down at the black-haired boy, eyeing him avidly.</p><p>He seemed to tense up at the use of his given name but then relaxed again, not commenting on it. Atsumu shrugged it off, hooded eyes meeting confused ones.</p><p>“Y’know, I thought you were gonna be a bit prickly at first,” He couldn’t help the amused smirk that broke out on his face, “But on your broom...you’re a real goody-two-shoes ain’tcha?”</p><p>Tobio’s face contorted up into a frown, and from his unguarded expression, Atsumu could almost see the cogs turning in his pretty little head as he mulled those words over. Tobio was such an open book off the court, it was almost cute, and the older boy could pinpoint the moment in which what was once confusion caught alight, metamorphosing into pure provocation.</p><p>“<em>Huh?</em>” Tobio glared up at Atsumu, blue eyes eclipsed with agitation as his scowl deepened.</p><p>The fifth-year was a little taken back by the glower he had received but refused to let it register on his face. Who knew even goody-goody Tobio could give a look as dirty as that? His leer only grew with delight; maybe he <em>had</em> picked up a few things from Oikawa. He could see that bothering Tobio was going to be a fun pastime.</p><p>(Osamu had often said it was this dickish approach Atsumu took that made him intolerable. Atsumu really didn’t care. He didn’t see it that way at all: it was just a little fun).</p><p>In the distance, a whistle sounded, calling the group for another practice match, but neither boy moved even as the world around them fell into motion. The air between them suddenly felt heavy, thick with tension. Eyes locked into a stare. Eyebrows furrowed. Not a word was exchanged.</p><p>Their conversation was cut short, but Atsumu didn't mind. He just wanted to get under his skin, maybe tease him a bit. Even he didn’t really know the reason why. All he knew was that a certain Gryffindor beater was stupidly talented and just a little bit distracting. And it was starting to get on his nerves. </p><p>He was the first to step away, fascinated.</p><p> Maybe this whole rival thing could be a lot more fun than he had anticipated.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tobio had been called a lot of things growing up, some kind, others not so much.</p><p>
  <em>Pureblood. Genius. Prodigy.</em>
</p><p>From day one, his family heritage bestowed him a label in the magic world. <em>Pureblood</em>.</p><p> He didn't even understand what that was supposed to mean. How could his blood be purer than anyone else's? Who gave a shit about who was muggle-born or who came from a long line of wizards and witches? In his eyes, if you could do magic, you had every right to be at Hogwarts. On the whole, things weren't so bad anymore. Yet every once in a while, there would be an overzealous pureblood, who stuck to the past. Tobio wasn’t one to hold grudges, but he couldn’t stand people like that.</p><p>He had been flying a broom since he could walk, watching Quidditch since before he could talk. The sport had been with him from the day he was born. It was familiar. It was <em>home</em>. Home for Tobio was workaholic parents that never came back for dinner, a grandfather, and a sister who taught him all about the sport that made him who he was. So, words like genius and prodigy didn't hurt at first. In fact, they felt an awful lot like praise.</p><p>That was until <em>he </em>said them.</p><p>When the words <em>genius</em> and <em>prodigy </em>left Oikawa Tooru's mouth, swaddled up in a sheath of his contempt, Tobio felt sick to his stomach. It felt like his entire identity was driving away the person he wanted closer than anyone else. The words he prided himself on were knives lodged in his chest, slowly piercing his heart. And it hurt. It ached like nothing else. It was the same feeling as being benched for three years, permeating his being, poisoning his every atom. And suddenly years of praise washed away in the embrace of unrequited love.</p><p>Goody-two-shoes.</p><p>But that-- this-- <em>he </em>was different. Miya Atsumu was not Oikawa Tooru. His hair was not a delicate brown that was easy on the eyes, but instead straw-blond, natural chocolate identifying itself in a sharply trimmed undercut that demanded recognition. He didn't offer phoney, saccharine smiles that made Tobio's heart twinge; he gave challenging smirks that made his sense of competition flare. And yet--</p><p>
  <em>Goody-two-shoes.</em>
</p><p>And yet-- </p><p>Smooth voice. Shit-eating grin. Provocation glinting in his eyes.</p><p><em>And yet, </em>hearing those words leave Miya's mouth made Tobio's chest tighten the same way it did whenever Oikawa called him Tobio-chan, or genius, or prodigy, or king. And it wasn't a nice feeling. It was more like a whirlpool at the core of his being, sucking in all his energy.</p><p>He didn't understand. And it was gnawing at his sanity. What the hell did it mean? Was it an insult? A jab? Was it a joke? </p><p>No. </p><p>It was not a joke. </p><p>That much even Tobio could figure out. The cold tint in Miya's light caramel eyes was enough of an indication of that.</p><p>Words were never Tobio's speciality, but he knew that in a situation like this, he had no choice but to use them, to ask for confirmation or he would never get any. He didn't understand why he was so scared, but he mused that it must have something to do with how Atsumu seemed a lot more candid than Oikawa. Where Oikawa would keep talking in circles to confuse Tobio, Atsumu seemed as though he would get to the point to perplex him in an entirely different way.</p><p>Tobio waited in his state of flux until the last day of training. That day seemed particularly good, and Miya was playing amazingly. When he cracked a bludger the resounding smack in the air rang in Tobio's ears for extra long. There wasn't anyone who hit a bludger quite like him. And when he cleared a path for a chaser? It was amazing. Tobio had been on the receiving end of that and almost felt like he had improved drastically at chasing.</p><p>So when Miya approached him at the end of practice, Tobio finally asked the thing that was on his mind all week.</p><p>"Yo, Tobio-kun, didja like the timing of that hit?" He crouched besides Tobio, wearing a tight-lipped smile, "I didn't leave it too late, did I? Wouldn't wantcha thinkin' the bludger was 'boutta knock ya’ off your broom."</p><p>"No- I mean- <em>yes</em>. Um-" Tobio cringed at his own awkwardness. If the rest of his team was here, they would have clowned him to no end -- especially Hinata and Noya. He gritted his teeth, trying again, "The timing was perfect, Miya-san. It was easy to score after you hit it away."</p><p>"Good. Anyone who can't score after I clear the way is nothin' but a scrub." Atsumu answered with a wave of intensity washing over his words, the ghost of first-year Kageyama lingering not so far from him. It made Tobio regret the conversation almost, but the fifth-year kept talking.</p><p>"Don'tcha think you'd be better off as a chaser, Tobio-kun?" Atsumu asked, tone reverting back to the casual one from earlier, but not failing to make Tobio shift uncomfortably. </p><p>What was he meant to say to that? Chasers were necessary and all since they scored the points but-- He shook his head. There was no position like the position of the beater. Without them, the bludgers would knock away the chasers before a single point could be made. There were no chasers or seekers or <em>points</em> without the beaters; it was the most desirable position on the pitch.</p><p>"But...I'm a beater." Tobio answered simply, unsure of how to put all his reasons in words. How was he ever meant to encapsulate the feeling of utter joy being a beater provided him? He half expected a snide remark but was met with a genial look. Miya's eyes had eased, drooping slightly as a smile tugged at the edges of his lips.</p><p>"Yeah...that's what I thought you'd say." He didn't explain what he meant, instead opting for silence as he leaned onto the grass.</p><p>Tobio bit his lip; it was now or never.</p><p>"Uh...Miya-san?" Tobio was met with a grunt of acknowledgement, but couldn't speak, mouth feeling drier by the second. He moved his lips, trying to form a sentence, but no words came out. He must have taken an unnaturally long pause because Atsumu had propped himself onto his palms and was staring right at him. If that was meant to make it easier for Tobio, he was sorely mistaken.</p><p>"Ya’ gotta use your words, y'know?" Atsumu teased, awkwardly letting out a light chuckle when Tobio's expression didn't even twitch. He bit his tongue, leaning in. "Is somethin' wron--"</p><p>"What did you mean?" Tobio cut in -- perhaps a little louder than he should have, judging from the way Atsumu lurched abruptly -- hands raised to his chest. He relaxed as much as he could before elaborating. "When you called me a 'goody-two-shoes' -- what did you mean?"</p><p>"Literally that." Miya returned to lying on the ground, blond bangs falling back messily, revealing his forehead.</p><p>Tobio didn't really register the change in his face as he couldn't tear his eyes from their shared gaze.</p><p>"Someone who's diligent. Honest and obedient."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>Tobio silently returned to stretching, not speaking to Miya again. </p><p>Maybe he had judged him too harshly. Just because Oikawa didn't like him, didn't mean <em>every</em> beater he ever met wouldn't either. But then again, the look in Atsumu's eyes when he'd answered -- glazed over, burning holes in his soul -- made him shudder. The boy was a puzzle, somehow more so than everyone else Tobio came across.</p><p>He just shrugged it off; there was no point in holding a grudge.</p><p>
  <strong>———————————</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Tobio stared up at the bed above his with heavy eyelids and red eyes that stung with every slow blink he took. This wasn't anything new; sleep often evaded him in the hours he needed it most. Now would definitely be one of those hours; body aching, head throbbing, entire being yearning slumber.</p><p>He didn't know how long he had been lying there, seconds melting into minutes into hours into god fucking knows what. He cursed that overactive and undecisive brain of his. Throughout lessons where he should have been attentive, it was easy to slip into dreamland, but now -- when it was <em>necessary</em> -- his mind just would not shut up, screaming about the most useless topics.</p><p>
  <em>Defence from the dark arts homework due--</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Need to use the backhand swing--</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Goody-two-shoes-- </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not a-fucking-gain.</em>
</p><p>He smothered a pillow against his face, suppressing the urge to scream. That jackass Miya Atsumu was <em>still</em> annoying him when he wasn't even <em>awake</em>. He had clarified what he meant by goody-two-shoes, but a part of Tobio had already fixated on the comment. Now, he could not stop it from tormenting his thoughts all night. Whenever he tried to close his eyes, Atsumu’s smooth voice snaked around his cognisance, cocky tone buzzing in his ears. It was unbearable.</p><p> <em>He</em> was unbearable.</p><p>And then there was the way he looked at him. <em>God</em>. </p><p>Did he want to go or something? </p><p>Tobio really wished he didn't. He didn't think he could win a fight against someone older, taller and, on the whole, tougher than him. He would like to keep his bones intact and remain able to play quidditch. Plus, Atsumu looked like he knew some nasty spells, and Tobio...Well he was barely doing well enough in class to stay on the team.</p><p>Was he really that bad at making friends? He never really thought it was something he was particularly good at, given his blunt nature, but was he <em>so</em> bad that Atsumu hated him within three days of meeting him?</p><p><em>It wouldn’t be the first time something like that’s happened. </em>Tobio thought bitterly, the image of Oikawa burning in his brain as he turned on his side.</p><p>Great. Now Tobio was thinking about a totally different type of headache.</p><p>This was no good. Tobio needed some fresh air-- Needed to think-- Needed to <em>breathe</em>. Quidditch. That was the only answer to his problems. </p><p>He stepped out of bed, slipping on some shoes as he attempted to sneak out of their shared room without disrupting any of the other boys, who were currently knocked out from practice. Tobio honestly envied them. Peaceful sleep wasn't something that came to him quickly, and he knew it must get on the nerves of everyone in the Gryffindor dorms. Hinata had never been afraid to voice his annoyance. But he was a dumbass, so it didn't matter. </p><p>Just as he reached for the door, a hand latched onto his sleeve, pulling him back. He jolted in surprise, almost letting out a yell, but luckily, he had retained the sense to cup his mouth in case a sound left it. A face that was all too familiar stole him from the privacy of his thoughts, and Tobio wished the gods would just give him a break.</p><p>Miya Atsumu stared up at him from the comfort of his bed, cheek squished against a pillow, bleached tresses slovenly falling over his face. Tobio gave him a crooked smile, apologetic for disrupting his sleep. Not really though. He had been disturbing his sleep all night. This was only fair. </p><p>(Okay. He wasn't aware of that <em>but still</em>. Tobio would like to not have his dumb face permeating his thought-stream).</p><p>"Whatcha doin’ up at this hour Tobio-kun?" Atsumu murmured, raspy voice indicating that he had accidentally woken him up. Tobio thought that rough tone suited his dialect remarkably well -- not that he was overly focused on it or anything. The half-lidded expression he was shooting the younger boy caused him to stammer.</p><p>"I...I couldn’t sleep." He was met with a sympathetic tongue click.</p><p>"And lemme guess, you were off to play a bit of quidditch to get your nerves back to normal?" Atsumu lifted an eyebrow up at him, shifting into a seated position.</p><p> Tobio could not lie and chose to nod, slightly apprehensive of how effectively the fifth-year could read his intentions. </p><p>Atsumu let out a muffled chuckle, eyes lighting up, "You’re an absolute fanatic y’know?"</p><p>Tobio frowned instantly. A fanatic? Was that a good thing? He could never be sure with Miya. Was he trying to provoke him? How was he supposed to react? What would Nishinoya tell him to do? Fight most likely. Okay maybe following his made-up advice from his upperclassman was a bad idea. What would Hinata advise him to do? Something that would make him look like a dumbass probably. And Yachi would just collapse from nervousness. The only people from his team whose advice he should follow were Daichi and Iwaizumi. But none of the sixth-years were here. Fuck. What was he meant to--</p><p>"But then again, I'm a fanatic too." Atsumu grinned, dispelling Tobio's doubts. </p><p>
  <em>Okay, it can't be an insult; he would never insult himself. </em>
</p><p>Despite coming to the conclusion that it wasn't ill-natured, he didn't know what to say. So, he spurred the conversation onwards. (And by that, he meant that he forced the attention back to Atsumu. A perfect plan since he didn't actually have to say anything too vexing). </p><p>“What about you Miya-san? Can’t sleep either?”</p><p>“Yeah...How ‘bout I join ya’?” He threw off his blanket, jumping up to stand beside Tobio. That ever-present smirk of his returned yet again. (Tobio decided he didn’t particularly like that smirk; it made his stomach feel weird).</p><p>“Don’t think I coulda slept again now thatcha woke me.” Miya kidded, playfully elbowing Tobio in his side.</p><p>Tobio reddened with embarrassment, stumbling through a shaky apology that only made Miya chortle as he ruffled his hair. He stiffened. </p><p>What the hell was that? What the fuck? People didn’t usually just touch him, let alone like <em>that</em>. The odd sensation in his stomach was back again. </p><p><em>He really didn't like that feeling</em>.</p><p>“Lead the way.”</p><p>Nodding wordlessly, Tobio twisted the door handle, stepping into the expansive hallway with Atsumu close behind him. The pair took cautious steps, careful to not awaken anyone, especially the ghosts and paintings. If they woke up, the noise would get the pair caught instantly. And a detention right about now would not be fun. Neither of them was particularly fond of the Forbidden Forest, and even though there was no guarantee that they would have to serve that sort of detention, the risk alone was far too much.</p><p>Tobio pulled his wand out from the side pocket of his joggers, gently flicking his wrist.</p><p>“<em>Lumos.” </em>His whisper echoed through the darkness enveloping them, transforming into a small light that emitted from the end of his wand, faintly outlining their surroundings in a pasty white. They followed the path highlighted by the minimal light and eventually found themselves outside.</p><p>An abrupt gust of autumn wind lashed at Tobio's body the moment he exited the building. He clutched at his arms, shaking and suddenly wishing he was wearing more than a thin t-shirt. He looked over at Miya who had it worse in his maroon shorts. And not so surprisingly, he wasn't afraid to show just how cold he was, dramatically chattering his teeth and grumbling his complaints. It was honestly entertaining, and Tobio felt a little warmer on the inside as a slight giggle escaped his lips.</p><p>"What? Ya’ think my sufferin' is funny, do ya?" The older boy stuck his tongue out at Tobio jokingly.</p><p>When they reached the broom shed, Tobio came to the damning realisation that it was bolted shut as he shook a rusted lock in his hand. The revelation that they would need the key from the coach in order to open it, only worsened the situation.</p><p>“Ah. It’s locked.” Tobio stated, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he took a step away from the shed, “Sorry, I clearly didn’t think this through, Miya-san.” He hung his head in half a bow and was met with an airy laugh.</p><p>“<em>Jesus</em>. I didn't follow ya out here in the freezin' cold to go right back." The older boy laughed again, tearing up at whatever the joke was.</p><p>Tobio was still waiting for the punchline.</p><p>“I was right when I called ya’ a goody-two-shoes wasn’t I?” He clapped Tobio’s back with his palm, before shooing him out the way. Hunching across from the shed door, he took the lock in one hand and pulled his wand out with the other, “You’re actin’ like we ain’t got plenty of spells to help us in a situation like this.”</p><p>Tobio swallowed hard, extra unsettled by the toothy grin Miya was giving him.</p><p>“Wait-- Uh. Are you sure we should be doing this?”</p><p>“Can’t exactly play quidditch without our brooms, can we?” He aimed his wand, wrist poised to cast a spell.</p><p>Tobio curled his mouth into a frown, teeth digging into his bottom lip. The wobbly expression seemed to catch Miya by surprise as his eyes widened ever so slightly. He relaxed his shoulders, looking up at the fourth-year, steeled appearance giving into a delicate gaze that made Tobio feel less on edge.</p><p> “Don’tcha worry; S’not like you’re the one breakin’ in. I’ll take the blame if we get caught, ‘kay?”</p><p>“You don’t have to do that, seriously. I’m sure we--"</p><p>“Stop bein’ such a bloody wuss. Ya wanna play don’tcha?” The way Atsumu said it made it all seem so simple. And Tobio frowned even harder, because was it? Was it <em>really</em> that simple? </p><p>He didn't even realise that he had begun fidgeting with his fingers. He didn’t want to get in trouble now that he had finally gotten onto the team starting lineup. If he did anything to mess up the dynamic, he might be benched all over again. The mere thought of that made him dizzy. He couldn't go back to reserves; <em>he had to play on the team</em>. </p><p>
  <em>But--</em>
</p><p>He found Miya staring back at him expectantly--</p><p>
  <em>The team--</em>
</p><p>Hazel eyes glistening in the moonlight--</p><p>
  <em>Reserves--</em>
</p><p>Hand outstretched--</p><p>
  <em>This is a bad idea--</em>
</p><p>Just once--</p><p>
  <em>I should go--</em>
</p><p>He could play--</p><p>
  <em>No--</em>
</p><p>Just this <em>once</em>--</p><p>
  <em>Say no--</em>
</p><p>Tobio was nodding before he even knew it. Fuck. He was weak.</p><p>Atsumu's smirk dissolved into a genuine smile for a fleeting instant, and Tobio’s chest constricted. </p><p>Weird. It didn’t usually do that.</p><p>“Okay then. <em>Alohomora.</em>”</p><p>After a swish of the wand, the lock opened with a click, sending the shed door swinging open in a gentle blast of air. </p><p>Tobio sucked in a sharp breath; maybe this wasn’t a good idea. It wasn't too late yet; they could feasibly turn back. It would be like nothing ever happened. But Miya was already grabbing his broom and indicating for Tobio to do the same.</p><p>So he did. </p><p>Because <em>Christ</em>, he wanted to play some quidditch, and from the way Atsumu was looking at him, it was obvious that he did too.</p><p>Maybe they were fanatics after all.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Atsumu clung onto his broom, the late-night -- or was it early morning? -- wind running through his hair as he chased a quaffle down the pitch, aiming it at the hoop where Tobio was waiting to defend.</p><p>The idea of practising beating had been abandoned at the thought of tackling a wild bludger in the dark. Especially when the pair shouldn’t have been out in the first place. That would only result in broken bones and extra punishment. And although bones were easily mendable, pissing the nurse off was never a wise idea. So instead, they chose to repeat chasing and keeping in turns. </p><p>The night ticked on at the hands of the clock, unbeknownst to Atsumu and Tobio. The blond only noticed just how long they had been playing when Tobio began finding it arduous to keep on his broom, head looking like it was too heavy for his body, sinking every few moments and giving him a start. </p><p>Did this kid even realise how tired he was? </p><p>Atsumu propelled the quaffle at the hoop, bewildered when the fourth-year stuck his arm out to block, despite his eyes struggling to remain open. What kind of monster was he?</p><p>He suppressed the entertained grin threatening to break onto his face when he scored because Tobio barely registered the point, yawning loudly. Maybe it was long past time for them to head back.</p><p>"C'mere Tobio-kun. I think it's time to go." He was answered with a whine of resistance. Atsumu rolled his eyes, pulling Tobio along by the broom, "Oi, quit your complainin' before I knock ya out with a charm."</p><p>The pair were back at the shed with their brooms put away before they even registered the ground against their feet. Atsumu fumbled in his pocket for his wand, finding it a little difficult to manoeuvre with a heavy, sleepy Tobio clutching onto him for dear life, half asleep already. He could have pushed him off, but it was nice to have something heated against him in the wintertime chill. And Tobio, as it turned out, was extremely warm.</p><p>“<em>Colloportus</em>.” Atsumu whispered, and the shed door locked itself again, sealing away their brooms for the night as if they hadn’t even touched them. He stepped back, looking over at Tobio who had his head resting on his shoulder, hands loosely holding Atsumu's shirt. “Tired enough to sleep now?”</p><p>Tobio gave him a silent nod, eyes weighted with dull bags. He attempted to smother another yawn, nose scrunching. Atsumu grinned at the sight, pulling the younger boy along by his wrist. He forced a stern tone when he addressed him again.</p><p>“You’ve totally knackered ya body. S’not every day we get to play quidditch all week long ‘n that still wasn’t enough for ya?” He scolded in a hushed tone, stopping only to cast the <em>‘lumos’</em> charm for some light to guide them down the hallways. “Seriously, ya gotta be a little more careful Tobio-kun. Wouldja have even noticed thatcha needed to sleep ‘less I said so?”</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep...’less I tired myself out...” Tobio let go of him as they neared the dorm again, flopping against the wall and grunting. His face was flushed red from the cold, the end of his nose almost crimson. </p><p>Atsumu sighed, stepping past him and moving to open the door, but stopped when Tobio stirred, mouth opening as if he was about to talk.</p><p>“Playing with you is fun, Miya-san; I wanted to play more.” Tobio whined, so bereaved of much-needed rest that he must have barely registered the words tumbling from his mouth. He yawned again, not discerning how uncharacteristically quiet Atsumu had gotten.</p><p>He found himself staring but couldn't look away. Who was this pureblood prodigy? How dare he just waltz into Atsumu's life, show his zeal for the game and drive him insane? How dare he love being a beater just as much as him?</p><p>
  <em>"But...I'm a beater."</em>
</p><p>What a simple answer. There was no long drawn, pre-rehearsed speech on the joys of Quidditch or the team spirit or whatever other bullshit dramatics people came up with. There was just the fact that he was a beater. No questions asked. That's just who he was. And it was unfair for him to just say it like that.</p><p>“Tobio?” Atsumu's voice came out a little more strained than he would have liked it to have. He didn't even know why. Someone wanting to play more with him wasn't <em>that</em> exceptional, he had Osamu to play with his entire life after all. And yet, hearing those words coming from Tobio jammed the cogs in his brain, thoughts scrambling helplessly.</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>His throat felt blocked. That couldn't be good.</p><p>It wasn't that he wanted to keep playing, or that he found it fun. It was-- <em>It was</em>-- Fuck; he didn't know what it was. And it made him want to scream. <em>He didn't know what it was</em>. It was just <em>something</em>; something annoying and burning and warm and sweet and <em>nice</em> and-- <em>Fuck</em>. He <em>despised</em> it.</p><p>
  <em>"But...I'm a beater."</em>
</p><p>Osamu used to be a beater, but he gave that position up when Atsumu became a regular. And Atsumu was never particularly close with the seventh-year beater on their team -- he had that sneaking suspicion that he wasn't fond of his guts. That made him a scrub in Atsumu’s eyes. And he hated playing with scrubs.</p><p>(Osamu had said he shouldn’t say things like that either, but again, Atsumu didn’t give a flying shit. He didn’t play Quidditch to make friends and happy memories; he played to win).</p><p>But Kageyama was not a scrub, nor was he a beater for the sake of being a beater. And he <em>cared</em>. He cared about the position he played, so much so that it was part of his identity. </p><p>And Atsumu was the same. He was a beater through and through. So the thought of playing with Tobio -- someone who was alike and yet so <em>so</em> very different -- was like fresh air to his deprived lungs. And Atsumu wanted to breathe it in, wanted to play with Tobio again.</p><p>“Let’s do that; let’s play more then.” He managed to blurt out, catching the younger boy by surprise.</p><p>“Right now?” Tobio lifted his head from against the wall, a new fire burning in his eyes. </p><p>Atsumu felt speechless; was he seriously considering going back right now? At god knows what time in the night? After they had already played? Fanatic was not a strong enough word for him. Monster was starting to sound more accurate. Who in his team could keep up with him? Atsumu had Osamu; who the hell stuck around with Tobio, unsociable as he was?</p><p>“Course not. What the fuck do they feed ya in Gryffindor? Don'tcha sleep? Pretty much everyone has a train to catch tomorrow, remember? Some sleep would be nice, so I don't miss it." Atsumu pressed his back against the door, trying not to look at Tobio, feeling inexplicably bashful about it all, "I meant that we could play later, after winter break. Y’know. For practice.”</p><p>“You...want to practice with <em>me</em>?” Tobio gawked at him, mouth slightly agape. </p><p>Atsumu felt a light crackle in his veins at the scene before him. What was with that look? Why was it-- Jesus. Why was he so adorable? <em>Jesus</em>. Was it normal to find your newfound rival cute? Thank god no one could hear his thoughts.</p><p>“I’m askin’ ya, ain’t I?” Atsumu recovered from his brief lapse quickly, wrapping an arm around a meek Tobio's shoulders, gladly teasing him, “Don’tcha get it twisted Tobio-kun, just ‘cause I wanna practice with ya for fun, doesn’t mean I won’t crush ya in the Inter-House Cup.”</p><p>“We’ll see about that.” Tobio let a little huff of air out through his nose.</p><p>
  <em>Ha, he's confident, ain't he? </em>
</p><p>“Countin’ on ya to play a fun match.” Atsumu let go of the younger boy, opening the door a smidge.</p><p>“I will as long as you keep up.”</p><p>An amused grin involuntarily burst onto the fifth-year's face; Tobio was fun. He was no Oikawa Tooru in terms of taunts, but damn, it was exhilarating when he snapped back, lips pulled into a little lopsided pout.</p><p>“Shut yer trap and go to bed Tobio.” Atsumu tousled his hair, raven strands like silk against his palm. Shit, what would it feel like between his fingers, intertwined with them? What would Tobio do if he just stroked it instead of messing it up like this? Should he-- Tobio relaxed into his touch a little, less tense than the first time Atsumu pulled something like this, and it felt like he had just been struck with a bolt of lightning.</p><p>Atsumu retracted his hand. He was probably just tired.</p><p>“Goodnight then, Miya-san." Tobio gave him a polite nod of the head, slipping into the darkness of the room.</p><p>“Yeah...night.” Atsumu wasn't even sure if the words made it out of his throat. He sighed, shutting the door behind him before getting back into bed. This rival thing was getting too complicated too fast. </p><p>Whatever, it didn't really matter. He had to focus on winning the house cup. </p><p>The first match after winter break was against Gryffindor and Atsumu refused to lose to Tobio.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The day of the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match arrived faster than expected, with winter break ending in a flash.</p><p>Tobio stood with his teammates, clutching onto his broom and bat, enthusiastic for the game.</p><p>In the background, muffled by the wall keeping them inside, the drone of voices filled the air. He could identify it anywhere. The roar of the crowd was a drug to him, charging his system. It had nothing to do with the people themselves; Tobio was never one for large gatherings, after all. It was the atmosphere they provided, one that compiled his love for the sport. A sea of red and green parted neatly down the middle, separated by the pitch. It was beckoning to him -- hypnotizing.</p><p>He knew he should be focused, but his stomach was churning. To his right, Hinata returned from the toilet, having performed his ritual of being sick before a game. He ignored him, trying to hone his own nerves.</p><p>Tobio was not someone who got apprehensive before a game. Why would he? The pitch was there, his broom was there, his bat was there and so was he. People should never feel anything other than enthusiasm to play. But now, he understood where they were coming from. (Not to the extent of throwing up everywhere; Hinata was still a dumbass). </p><p>He knew what caused this. It was rather obvious.</p><p>Before winter break and the training camp, Tobio was hesitant to voice any concerns. He wasn't good with words, nor could he tell when he was being harsh or rude. He was sure that was why he had been benched by prior captains for so long -- the image of a team turning away from their first-year prodigy of a beater haunted him. But ever since school started again, Miya’s stupid voice wouldn’t stop circling in his head; telling him to stop being such a goody-two-shoes, to let them know what was wrong, because anyone who couldn't score for <em>him</em> was just a scrub. And before he knew it, he had yelled at the team. </p><p>The panic felt so fresh that he could still sense it in his chest; sweaty palms, racing heart, a clumsy attempt at an apology. They could have thrown him away -- rejected him, just like everyone else.</p><p>But no. </p><p>The team-- <em>his </em>team had consoled him with smiles and laughs. They weren’t going to reject him because they knew how hard he worked, how difficult it was for him to talk to people, how he was trying his best. They were a team, <em>a real one</em>, and no one was getting left behind.</p><p>Tobio looked up to see Daichi give him a reassuring nod. He took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. The team believed in him; they weren’t going to bench him again. They weren't like the old team members, and Tobio wasn't the pain in the ass that everyone despised anymore.</p><p>And now, he felt nothing but excitement to step on the pitch.</p><p>
  <em>"Iwa-chan!"</em>
</p><p>Or he did until Oikawa turned up.</p><p>Tooru’s voice echoed in the hallway, and Tobio felt a coldness claw at his spine. Fuck. Why did he have to show up when everything was going so well? It was decided: the universe really did resent him.</p><p>“Shittykawa what are you doing here?” Iwaizumi condemned but didn’t tell him to leave, even as he began leaning against his shoulder.</p><p>“I’m here to wish you and my precious little Tobio-chan good luck for today.” He made an obnoxious emoji-like expression, sticking his tongue out at Tobio. It made his heart hurt. Especially when Oikawa pinched his cheek causing a red-hot feeling to flush his face. (He could see Hinata snickering to himself at the side; he was dead).</p><p>“You’re up against Ushiwaka after all. You’ll need it.” A gloomy shadow fell over Oikawa's face, darkened stare making Tobio uneasy.</p><p>Ushijima Wakatoshi was Slytherin's captain and lead chaser. That guy was a monster. He towered over other sixth-years and executed his swing so ruthlessly that, apparently, all the keepers were scared to block him. Tobio thought that was only human of them. He was also the bane of Oikawa's existence, so much so that it was rumoured that the hat placed him in Ravenclaw to avoid them butting heads in Slytherin.</p><p>(Tobio thought that story checked out. Oikawa's drive made him the perfect Slytherin, but his hatred for Ushijima made it so they were a volatile explosion waiting to happen).</p><p>"What? You scared or something Tobio-chan?" Oikawa cooed, throwing his arms around the younger boy, the slightest indication of a taunt in his tone. Distant eyes locked onto Tobio and he panicked. </p><p>“We’ll be fine.” He stated it a little gruffer than he had intended to, and an awkward stretch of silence was produced. </p><p>Beside him, Hinata moved to speak, to say something— <em>anything</em> to distract from his friend. He knew how much seeing Oikawa messed with him and he couldn’t deal with this right before a match. A distracted Tobio meant a team without defence, and a team without defence could never win, let alone against the powerhouse that was Slytherin.</p><p>“Kageyama, let's get--"</p><p>“I see your confidence has skyrocketed.” Oikawa sneered, cutting Hinata off. </p><p>He scoffed, and Iwaizumi shook his head at him as if to tell him to quit it. Oikawa let his expression completely change, eyes returning to that artificial playfulness they always possessed when looking at Tobio. The fourth-year gulped: this was not going to be fun. </p><p>“Of course it has. You’re a little prodigy, aren’t you?" Oikawa squished Tobio's cheeks in his hand, treating him like a child. He held his breath for what was about to follow. "What have you <em>possibly</em> got to be afraid of? You’re the king after all.”</p><p>“That’s enough Oikawa.” Iwaizumi scolded, but Tobio couldn’t hear any of it anymore. The damage was done, wasn't it?</p><p>King.</p><p>His head was thrumming, ears obstructed with static as that name reverberated through his mind. <em>King</em>. He wasn’t that guy anymore. He didn't want to be angry, or lost, or <em>alone</em>. He had a team now. A team who trusted him. A team that would never reject him. A team that <em>wanted</em> him. The seventh-years were gone, he didn’t need to worry about them anymore. He had a fresh start. He tried to force those negative thoughts out, but instead, they began clogging up his throat, a nasty, repugnant taste filling his mouth. </p><p>It stung -- <em>ached --</em> pierced through his chest like the death charm. Oikawa could've put him through one hundred rounds of <em>‘Crutio'</em> before that pain even came close to what he felt right now; heart torn into countless pieces. </p><p>And as if the word itself wasn't bad enough, the person saying it only amplified Tobio's spiral. It hurt so much to hear Oikawa call him that. Oikawa who he looked up to, who was gorgeous, who he liked-- Fuck. Scratch that. Who he <em>loved</em>. Oikawa who hated him, who rejected him at every turn, who threw him away like he was worthless, and drew a clear line in the sand between them when all Tobio wanted was someone like him to accept him.</p><p>“I’m sorry about him, Kageyama. He doesn’t mean that.” Iwaizumi's voice pulled Tobio out from the waves that were drowning him. Oikawa was already gone, and the vice-captain patted him on the shoulder on his way back to Daichi. </p><p>Tobio let out a shaky breath, all too aware of Hinata and Noya's prying eyes locked onto him, staring like some explosion had occurred where he stood.</p><p>“Is everything okay with you?" Nishinoya was the first to ask, tentatively reaching to rub Tobio’s shoulder.</p><p>“Um...Yeah. Everything is okay.” The way he had said it didn’t feel very reassuring, not even to himself. He sighed, “I’m going to the toilet. I’ll be right back.”</p><p>“What—?” Hinata squawked, “The game starts in fifteen minutes? And we still need to get to the Quidditch Gate? You never leave before a match.”</p><p>“Hinata dumbass, I <em>said</em> I’ll be right back.” He glared, flicking the shorter boy on his forehead, "Like I'd miss a match."</p><p>That seemed to be enough to get the two off his case, and Tobio didn't waste another moment, hurrying to the bathroom without another word.</p><p>His mind resisted resting, continuing to plague him with thoughts of Oikawa, a pissed-off team of boys much older than him and every mistake in between. The world was slowly fading in front of him, it must have been because the towering walls around him were becoming stifling, crumbling down on him. Or maybe it was just him who was wilting away. He couldn't tell; he couldn't even tell when he'd walked into the bathroom. His mind must have been too caught up in its own panic to register the change in scenery.</p><p>Tobio stumbled past a row of stall doors with chipped grey paint, his empty lungs burning, heart hammering his chest so hard he thought it would burst through his ribs and shred his skin apart. He leaned against a sink, the wet ceramic cold against his palms as he stared at his reflection in a mirror splattered with water droplets.</p><p>The king; demanding, angry, pushy...<em>alone</em>. </p><p>The goody-two-shoes; polite, hesitant, pushover...<em>afraid</em>.</p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut, the sound of a lone dripping tap echoing against the expansive walls. Sunlight entered through the large window, reflecting off the marble surfaces all around him.</p><p>The image of his team was imprinted in his mind. Hinata Shouyou was there; <em>they were all there</em>. He had nothing to be afraid of anymore, so what if he was the king? They were okay with it; they were okay with <em>him</em>.</p><p>Tobio let out a shaky sigh. Something in between, not a tyrannical king, nor a wordless slave to his chasers. He was something in between. Splashing cold water against his face, he finally began feeling better, cold droplets dripping from his bangs, clearing the searing fire in his mind. He stumbled away from the sink, pushing back his hair, more at peace; ready to destroy Slytherin and their loud-mouthed beater.</p><p>But what he didn't expect was to run into said Slytherin beater on his way back to his team.</p><p>“<em>Tobio-kun</em>!” Miya Atsumu popped out the opposing hallway, slinging his arm around Tobio's shoulder as they both emerged in the courtyard, “I’ve been lookin’ for ya everywhere.”</p><p>Tobio tried to ignore just how close Miya had pulled him in, “You...you have?”</p><p>“'Course I have." He smirked, "I had to show up and tell ya that Slytherin -- especially me -- are lookin’ forward to kickin’ your ass today.”</p><p>Tobio rolled his eyes, half a chuckle escaping his lips, "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."</p><p>“Hope ya have the skill to back up that confidence." Miya lifted an eyebrow at him, a playful wink following, "I really hate playin' with scrubs."</p><p>The younger boy glared up at him, "Believe me, no one on our team is going to give Slytherin an easy game, so don't you worry Miya-san."</p><p>There was a stretch of silence, but Atsumu didn't stir, his hand still planted on his shoulder. At first, his face was unreadable, expression stuck in limbo as his eyes widened ever so slightly. But then came that lazy smirk Tobio was growing used to, only this time, there was something different about his eyes; brighter, focused, enthralled. He pulled away, bidding him goodbye but that look never faded, and it sent shivers down Tobio's spine.</p><p>He didn't know how long he had been watching the space where Miya had stood, but when he finally did turn around, he was met with the eyes of the entire team locked onto him. And then came the jeers and laughs and coos of <em>'Tobio-kun'</em>.</p><p>Nishinoya pulled him down by his uniform, ruffling his hair like a proud mother, "Look at you Kageyama. I'd almost lost all hope, but you outdid yourself."</p><p>"What--"</p><p>"It's like you've grown up so suddenly. I didn't even know you could smile like that." Tanaka wiped away at a fake tear, somehow worse than Nishinoya.</p><p>Tobio tensed up, sending a confused and pleading frown in Hinata's direction, hoping to get some support in these trying times. (Or at the very least, an explanation on what the hell everyone thought just happened). Hinata just shrugged with a cheeky smile, leaving the beater at the mercy of their upperclassmen until Daichi yelled at them to focus.</p><p>That was when Tobio finally found some peace, following the captain onto the pitch, eyes locking with Miya Atsumu who was already on his broom.</p><p>Yeah, there was <em>no way</em> he was about to lose to him. Or anyone.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Atsumu felt the sound of the klaxon reverberate in his bones, the cheers of a carmine-clad crowd filling the air, drowning out the shocked and disappointed gasps from Slytherin spectators. A gust of mid-January wind made his emerald uniform flutter as he gripped onto his bat and gritted his teeth.</p><p>Losing <em>sucked</em>. It was the worst feeling on the planet, like an immovable anchor sat on the pit of his stomach, weighing him down as he lined up with the rest of the team, incapable of looking up from the obscured ground beneath his broom. The keeper was saying something in that cheerful voice of his, but Atsumu wasn't in the mood to listen.</p><p>That Gryffindor seeker was something else, and if Atsumu was honest, he was really fucking cool. Shit, the way he had gotten the golden snitch and ended the game was <em>sick</em>. There was no way anyone could have stopped him, not with Tobio knocking away the bludger even when Atsumu aimed them directly at shorty.</p><p>Atsumu was not one to dwell on the past. What happened last year, last month, last week, yesterday, <em>hell</em>, even what happened one fucking hour ago had already happened; it was in the past. What mattered was the now. That was what he had always told himself; that was what propelled him to push forward in every match. After all, those who dwelled too much on who they were, how they <em>used to </em>play, couldn't play to their full potential now. They couldn't savour the satisfaction of the game before them. And that was all that mattered: being able to play and relish in the present.</p><p>And win. </p><p>But apparently, that wasn't a given, not even for a team as strong as Slytherin.</p><p>The thought of discarding memories helped to anaesthetize the pain of a loss. But now, with Kageyama Tobio on the pitch, he found himself surveying the entire match more than he had ever done before. He found himself looking back, wondering if this was a memory he would never forget, a moment passed by that he would think about even in-spite of an all-encompassing <em>now</em>.</p><p>Should he forget it? The astringent aftertaste of loss mixing with a post-match buzz. Could he forget it? The utter soul-crushing spectacle of the golden snitch in Gryffindor hands, blinded by the unrestricted smile that had broken onto Tobio’s face. Did he want to forget it? The booming applause from the opposing team’s crowd, almost loud enough to drown out his own breathless exclaim of ‘fuck’, because...<em>fuck</em>, what happened to goody-two-shoes Tobio?</p><p>As he shook the hands of the victors, he locked away the memory, piece by piece, barely conscious of what was happening around him. And began to concentrate on the future — the tomorrow that was not filled with loss, but with the potential of more, of winning, of Tobio who was not as hard-headed and serious as Atsumu had taken him to be, <em>of a real rival</em>.</p><p>And there he was, opposite to him, hand-stretched out, face unreadable as ever.</p><p>“Good game, Miya-san.”</p><p>Good game? Atsumu thought of the seeker that pushed on against him, the red-headed chaser that Tobio seemed to trust one hundred per cent, (he must have been the one who made Tobio so used to playing for so long, even in the depths of the night), the captain-keeper that kept his team together, the vice-captain that struck like a dependable lead chaser. But most of all, he thought about the challenging glares Tobio sent him from across the pitch—so intense, so <em>hungry</em>—and how they sent electricity crackling up his spine. Yeah, it <em>was</em> a good game.</p><p>Quidditch was a game of thrill, of whimsical desire in the face of danger, of unkempt yearning for a win. It was fast and dizzying and <em>exhilarating</em>. And Atsumu hadn't been sure if Tobio could feel that the way he did. He had wondered if that fire he had seen in Tobio's eyes back in their late-night rendezvous was a one-time thing, if he could keep that promise of not giving them an easy game, but he was wrong. His team had not only kept them on their toes, but Atsumu had also enjoyed every moment of the game. It seemed like Tobio had as well; it may not have been evident from that permanent grimace on his face, but the gleam in his eye and the provocative looks of challenge he had been sending Atsumu's way were enough to prove it. It sort of pissed him off.</p><p>"Yeah, good game, Tobio-kun." He squeezed the younger beater's hand lightly, half a smirk on his face, "But next time, I'll crush ya."</p><p>Tobio didn't say anything; he didn't need to. His eyes talked for him like they always did. And right now, the sudden flash in that cerulean sea was enough to let Atsumu know that he was going to fight back even harder next time. </p><p>Good.</p><p>He wiped the sweat trailing down his forehead with the back of his forearm, <em>That's what having a rival is for, right?</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>March was rainy that year. </p><p>Tobio grew used to hearing the pattering of water droplets against the windows of Gryffindor Tower. They fell to their own tune, a natural melody every bit as comforting as his grandfather's absentminded humming when he cooked for him and his sister. </p><p>He could have used that sort of comfort at a time like this; sore eyes, swollen cheeks, heavy heart.</p><p>Perching by the fireplace after class with Hinata and discussing quidditch strategies had become the norm, especially in the rainy weather. Every so often, they would invite Yachi over so she could help them out with classwork. (Charms Class was Hinata's worst subject, Tobio was worse at Transfiguration; seriously how the fuck was he meant to turn his pen into a cat? Or was it a frog? Was that even what they did in their last lesson?) At other times Tsukishima, a fourth-year Ravenclaw, would chew them out more than help. Gryffindor shared Transfiguration classes with Ravenclaw and Tobio wished they didn’t so he'd have never met the salty bastard, but Yachi and Yamaguchi seemed to put up with him, so he tried to remain civil. </p><p>It didn't work.</p><p>(Tobio didn't even know why the stingy beanpole agreed to help if he was going to be such a dick about it. Then again, they needed as much help as they could get, so they didn't get pulled off the team for failing classes).</p><p>However, today was different. It wasn't a day to huddle around the fireplace as calming splatters of rain fell from the sky. It wasn't the sort of day Tobio would spend with his friends, or with the rest of the team either for that matter.</p><p>Gryffindor Tower was quieter; the room was vacated of any celebratory signs. And Tobio was not assembled downstairs with his upperclassmen, relishing in a win, as they had done in November and January. </p><p>No. March meant thunderstorms and cold and losing to Ravenclaw, losing to Oikawa Tooru. So he curled up in his blanket, skulking away in his dorm, Hinata doing the same in his bed across from him. He craved for comfort, for support, but all he had was tears and thoughts of Oikawa that only made things worse.</p><p>Failing was depressing enough but losing to Oikawa was different. </p><p>It seared through his skin like lava, leaving his scarred heart, a mere vestige of what it used to be, in the wake of its destruction. Tobio wasn't even sure if breathing was an option under the smug sneer that the older boy had shot him; bitter and contemptuous despite his win. Like Tobio was nothing but the dirt under his shoes. </p><p>Surely Oikawa should be happy that he beat him? Why was that not enough for him? Why was <em>Tobio</em> not enough for him? </p><p>Self-worth was a complicated notion, so Tobio didn't bother with it. As with many things, if it wasn't quidditch, he didn't want to discuss it. But when it came to Oikawa, self-worth and quidditch became tangled, the matters of his head and heart became inseparable. And it all converged on him, like an ardent firestorm, like he was seized in a dragon's breath, scorching away at its mercy.</p><p>Oikawa Tooru was that dragon; intimidating, imminent, heart-breaking. An elusive creature that was bound to break him, but slowly, like every second with him was another centimetre of skin burning. He was everything Tobio had to surpass, not just to become a better beater, but to feel some sort of recognition. To finally get a smile from him, a real one, an acknowledgement of them being equals. Oikawa was astonishing, calculating, in harmony with his team, and Tobio wanted to be like him, wanted to be accepted, wanted to not be kept an arm's length away. Just wanted to be his.</p><p>He scoffed. Like Oikawa would ever let him get closer, let him be his, accept him in any way. To him, Tobio would always be the bothersome first year he wanted to crush, to hate, to tease and throw away for his own gratification.</p><p>Now Oikawa was in every nook and cranny of Tobio's mind, overtaking any other thought that dared to spread, tainting every nerve with his taunting nature. The fourth-year begged for any way to switch his mind off. And as if in response to his silent cry for help, Ennoshita walked into the dorm.</p><p>"Kageyama? Hinata?"</p><p>Tobio swallowed hard, forcing down the Oikawa-fuelled anguish that was clogging his throat as he sat up, harshly wiping his eyes so they didn't look so glassy. Hinata burst from his blanket, ginger hair slipshod, bloodshot eyes. He hated losing, so Tobio was not surprised that Hinata was just as rundown as him. In fact, he was grateful; at least no one would pry too much into why he was so hurt.</p><p>"You two okay?" The fifth-year leaned against the doorframe, a sympathetic frown on his lips. The fourth-years just nodded. They were appreciative of his attempt to communicate but weren't really in the mood to discuss the game, "Okay, anyway. Kageyama you've got a guest." (Tobio frowned in confusion and Hinata squawked in his obnoxiously loud way, shocked that those words had left anyone's mouth) "It's one of those Slytherin twins, the one with piss-blond hair. Miya..."</p><p>"Atsumu?" Tobio helpfully provided.</p><p>"Yeah, that's the one. He's downstairs and Tanaka's pulling faces at him, so if I were you, I'd get down there." With that, the prefect left, leaving a confused Tobio at the mercy of his hyper and scarily pleased classmate.</p><p>"<em>Soooooooooo</em>," Hinata smiled, baring his teeth, a twinkle in his eye. Tobio really didn't like that look, "Miya Atsumu? In our dorms?"</p><p>Tobio creased his eyebrows, pulling a face that was meant to demonstrate a notion of <em>duh that's what Ennoshita just said. </em>Hinata began giggling uncontrollably, and Tobio felt like he was being left out of a joke. He hated that feeling, so he stormed over to the bed opposite to his.</p><p>“Hinata dumbass shut up.” Tobio pulled him by the hair, yanking it, “What are you being so weird for?”</p><p>The chaser let out a whine, kicking Tobio in the shin causing the release of his iron grip. He rubbed his head, pouting ever so slightly, "I’m not being weird Jerkyama. I'm just surprised you made a <em>friend</em>."</p><p>The emphasis on friend made Tobio agitated, so he rolled his eyes, "He's not a <em>friend.</em> He's a fellow beater, a really good one at that."</p><p>"Whatever you say, Kageyama-kun." Hinata announced in a sing-song voice, but that ribbing grin never left his face and Tobio fought the urge to strike him with the harshest spell he knew.</p><p>It was only the thought of Miya standing alone with his upperclassmen that got him to leave. It wasn't that he thought they would scare him away or anything, it was more that his snide comments mixed in with Tanaka's easily-riled nature was not a good idea.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Tobio entered the room, he was met by a collective glance in his direction; some of amusement (mainly from the one seventh-year that used to be on the team before this year), others of pity. It was then that he realised how disconcerted he probably looked with his red cheeks and puffy eyes. He contemplated turning back and washing up so he didn't look like such a mess, but a familiar cry of his name stopped him dead in his tracks.</p><p>"Tobio-kun, ya took your time, didn't ya?"</p><p>He spotted Atsumu lounging on the couch, smack in the middle of the room, a single drop of emerald in the red and golden mix of Gryffindor, sticking out like a sore thumb. He seemed to have been conversing with Iwaizumi, who was polite enough to engage him so Tanaka and Nishinoya didn’t try to assert their dominance as they had done many times before to other unsuspecting visitors. (Tobio didn't want to get started on how they went crazy when Yachi brought her friend Kiyoko over).</p><p>Miya was beside him in an instant, "I was startin' to think ya didn't wanna see me, but then I remembered what a delight I am." He chuckled at his own joke. Tobio found Tanaka scowling at him for that a little more entertaining. </p><p>Then he went quiet, staring at Tobio, eyes flittering over his face and making the younger boy shift awkwardly. Miya's expression was unreadable; Tobio could not even hint at what was going through his mind. Though it wasn’t the first time he had been confused by the enigma that was Miya Atsumu. He sighed; this wasn't the time to be piecing out what the hell he was. </p><p>"Did you want something, Miya-san?" He couldn't put up with him with the loss from Oikawa still stinging in his veins. Atsumu was too much for his system on a good day, on a shitty day like this he was scared that having him around might break down any remaining sanity he had left.</p><p>The older beater moved his mouth in an attempt to say something, but then stopped, looking around the room, "Ya’ looked like shit after the game." Atsumu bit down on his lip, his eyes reaming holes in Tobio's soul.</p><p>"Yeah." Tobio replied dumbly, unsure of what to say to something like that. </p><p>Of course, he did. He had lost to Oikawa, of course he looked like he had been dragged backwards through a bush. Not that Miya would know the nuances of Tobio's pain and their history. He was honestly surprised he didn't say he looked like shit <em>now</em>. That would have been a fair observation.</p><p>"What are you tryna say about our beater?" Noya's voice sounded above Atsumu's attempt at a response. He pulled a face that was quite honestly impressive and the Slytherin boy chuckled, amused.</p><p>"Ya’ got some fun teammates." He diverted his attention back to Noya, "I weren't tryna say nothin'. S'not a bad thing. Just means he cares don't it?" </p><p>He shrugged, not engaging Nishinoya any further, apart from letting him know how <em>cool </em>of a seeker he was. That was enough to win him over, and suddenly Atsumu was “the best person Tobio had ever introduced them to”. Although, there wasn't much competition when the only other contenders were Oikawa and Tsukishima (barely). (Yachi and Yamaguchi didn’t count; they were both Hinata's friends first, like most people).</p><p>“Tobio…” Miya scratched the back of his neck, looking as though there was something he wanted to say, but again, with one look at his surroundings his face relaxed into that same lazy expression he always fashioned. </p><p>But his eyes never changed. </p><p>His eyes remained clouded, darkened, holding something that Tobio didn’t quite understand, even when that jovial tone returned to his voice.</p><p>“I’ve been caught between studyin’ for my OWLs ‘n team practice, so I ain’t had the chance to follow up on that promise to play with ya.”</p><p>There was a little whistle from the sofa and Tobio glared at the perpetrator, who was Tanaka to no one’s surprise. Atsumu laughed it off, not seeming fazed.</p><p>“As I was sayin’, I was gonna offer to play now, but lookin’ at how it’s chuckin’ it down outside, that doesn’t seem like such a good--”</p><p>“It isn’t that bad is it?” Tobio stood by the window, peering out at the stormy weather with a desperation that he wasn’t sure he even possessed. Quidditch was everything; it was the way he breathed, the only thing that could even have a chance to dull the ache that had rooted in his chest. So if Atsumu was standing there, offering to take that pain away, who the hell was Tobio to refuse him? (Even if he wasn’t totally prepared to deal with his...<em>layered</em> personality)</p><p>Miya stared back at him with his mouth agape, clearly not sure where the conversation was going. Tobio just ignored him, grabbing his notebook from the depth of his gown, flicking through the pages to a spell he had begged Yachi to help him perfect.</p><p>“Daichi-san!” The fourth-year grabbed Atsumu by the wrist, running over to his team captain with a hopeful glint in his eyes, “Can I go play--”</p><p>“Absolutely not.” Daichi didn’t even look up from the book he was reading, remaining seated on the stuffed, vermillion armchair as the fireplace crackled in the background.</p><p>A sulky and befuddled pout broke onto Tobio’s face, “You didn’t even let me finish. How can you say no before you even know what I want?”</p><p>Daichi sighed, “Kageyama, I know you well enough to know you wanted to go play quidditch,” he paused, turning the page of his book, “and I gotta tell you, it’s not happening.”</p><p>“I know it’s raining but I know a spell--”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Please, Miya-san came all this way and I--”</p><p>“I already said no.” The captain finally looked at Tobio and the glare he was giving him, made him wish he had just kept his mouth shut, “You’re tired and bruised and drenched from the match this afternoon, go and rest.” Though the words he spoke were of concern, the tenseness of his speech let Tobio know there was no choice in this situation. </p><p>He backed away, very aware that only a fool would try to argue with Daichi when he was adamant about something; he was the captain for a reason after all.</p><p>“Damn, guess your team captain ain’t that different from mine when it comes go shuttin’ plans down.” Atsumu chuckled, leaning against a couch as Tobio moped, not tearing his eyes from the window.</p><p>He wanted something -- <em>anything</em> -- to take his mind off of Oikawa, to numb the pain of losing. He just wanted to feel nothing; he yearned for an escape.</p><p>“Oi, y’know we could always discuss quidditch strategies instead of playin’.” Miya shrugged like it was no big deal but Tobio’s heart was thumping so hard that he could hear it in his head.</p><p>Fuck. Why was Atsumu like this? Why did he make Tobio’s stomach tighten into a knot and his head to spin? How the hell could he just ask him something like that when no other beater within a seventy-mile radius had ever even glanced in Tobio’s direction as an equal?</p><p>“Do you really mean that?” He was hesitant, afraid to have gotten his hopes up.</p><p>“Well ‘course I mean it; why? Ya’ never discussed quidditch with anyone before?” He was being sarcastic, pulling Tobio’s leg like he always did but that struck a nerve and the younger boy stood with slumped shoulders, lip twitching in an attempt at a coherent response.</p><p>“I <em>have,</em> with the team of course, but...other beaters...don’t like me.” Correction, other beaters didn’t approach him, and the only one he had ever worked up the nerve to approach first threw him aside like a broken toy. But that was all too much to explain, so yeah, he settled with other beaters not ‘liking’ him.</p><p>He expected a flummoxed look from Miya, but since when did that guy ever meet Tobio’s expectations? He practically snorted at his admission, tearing up like it was the funniest joke he had ever heard and all that rendered Tobio into an abashed, stuttering mess, desperately trying to come off as less of an emotional baby.</p><p>“Christ, Tobio-kun.” Miya heaved, finally taking in a proper breath as he doubled over, “D’ya think other beaters are all that fond of me? Please, even my teammates could barely stand me ‘til last year. Who gives a crap? They ain’t important.”</p><p>Again. Tobio couldn’t help but see the pale shadow of his past self outlining Atsumu and he wondered how different their lives must have been for him to not have had to change. He was almost jealous of that carefree attitude.</p><p>Miya straightened up, grinning cheek from cheek, “Plus ya’ got me now, so ya’ don’t need them other beaters anymore.”</p><p>Tobio paused. He hadn’t thought of it like that. Ideally, he would like to know all the beaters in Hogwarts, in order to analyse their style, learn from them if he could, no matter how small the detail. But for now, having Atsumu at his side was enough to observe, after all, he was the best beater in Hogwarts.</p><p>“Ah. I guess you’re right.” </p><p>Tobio didn’t know what else to say; he wasn’t used to actually getting help from someone else, what with Oikawa shooing him away throughout the last four years without hesitation. Then he noted Atsumu searching around for somewhere to sit, finding none.</p><p> “It’s really busy here right now; we could always go up to my room? It’s quieter and there’s space to sit.”</p><p>Miya stared at him with a bemused smirk, waggling his eyebrows, “Invitin’ me to your room already? How forward, Tobio-kun.” </p><p>The comment elicited a few muffled chuckles from Tanaka and Nishinoya who were still listening in to their conversation. (Tobio honestly wondered how bored they must have been to listen for so long). </p><p>But he paid little attention to them, instead looking up at Atsumu and asking, “Is it?”</p><p>The second the words left Tobio’s mouth the chuckles became guffaws and the blonde’s face had fallen. Was that not the right answer? Was it a stupid question? This is why Tobio didn’t like talking to people on his own.</p><p>“What--” Atsumu stared at him wordlessly for a few moments, taken aback, but he recovered quickly, “Nevermind, it ain’t important. Just lead the way.”</p><p>Tobio didn’t question it, just glad that they were moving past whatever the hell that was. He directed him up a twirling mahogany staircase, desperately hoping that this would be the remedy to his affliction.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Atsumu sat across from Tobio on his bed, legs crossed as he listened to the younger boy talk his leg off about the different types of swings with the same amount of gravity a real match would require. The little crease in his brows, the sparkle in his eyes, the trademark frown of his that was less so a frown and more so a pout; all of it made Atsumu’s heart twinge in an inexplicable way. Almost as inexplicable as the reason why he was here.</p><p>He didn’t really know why he had rushed to Gryffindor Tower, all he knew was once he had seen that devastated look on Tobio’s face after his match against Ravenclaw, his feet had moved at their own will. It was a decision made on a whim, a whim that burst forth the second the whistle had gone off and Tobio’s face contorted into something unrecognisable, a hollow look setting into his eyes -- the eyes that usually gave everything away for him. </p><p>Losing sucked; Atsumu was very much aware of that fact. But that expression-- that <em>pain </em>-- cut so much deeper than quidditch, and he wondered what the fuck could hurt Kageyama Tobio more than losing a match, dedicated as he was?</p><p>“Miya-san?”</p><p>Atsumu hummed at Tobio’s interjection, looking up to find his gaze locked onto him, eyes softened. </p><p><em>Fuck</em>. </p><p>Why did he look at him like that? Like he was the last person on the earth?</p><p>“Are you okay? You seem really out of it.”</p><p>And god <em>fucking</em> damnit. </p><p>Did he have to speak to him in such a hushed tone? So gentle and genuine that it left a sweet, warm feeling in the back of his throat, as if he had swallowed a spoonful of honey. </p><p>How could someone so uniquely aimable, in a way that he didn't even understand, have looked so distraught? What the hell could have caused something like that? Atsumu had to know, had to feel like he could stop it, had to peel away another layer of Tobio’s expansive personality.</p><p>“M’fine, promise.” He tried to muster up a smile, but his face didn’t seem to be in the mood to cooperate.</p><p>He was honestly thankful that Tobio had brought them up here because there was no way he would have been able to articulate what he really wanted to say in front of all of Tobio’s teammates. Usually he didn’t care for other people, but Tobio made him act weird, like a shell of himself, nervous for god knows what. It was even worse now that he wasn’t sure how to phrase his concern; how the hell was he meant to ask whether Tobio was okay? How the fuck-- Oh. <em>Oh</em>.</p><p>So that’s what it was: <em>worry</em>.</p><p>The realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks, and Atsumu was unsure of how well he knew himself all of a sudden. Because surely something like this should have been obvious to him?</p><p><em>He was worried about Tobio</em>. </p><p>When did that become a thing? Did people get worried over their rivals? Surely they would want them to lose at every turn? </p><p>The twisting sensation in his stomach begged to differ, as the thought of Tobio’s dejected face flashed through his mind yet again, leaving an uncomfortable pricking in his chest. There was no way to deny a feeling as crystal clear as that, not once it had made itself so obvious. </p><p>He pressed his nails against his palm, <em>There isn’t really anything wrong with it, is there? I’m worried about him because he’s my rival and I need him to be at his best so I can be at mine. That’s it, right?</em></p><p>(Tobio had nodded slightly at his response and then begun staring down at his hands, mumbling on about a new broom trick that he wanted to try. And in that moment he looked so utterly small -- legs brought to his chest, head tucked over his knees, bottom lip sticking out -- that Atsumu decided to throw all doubt out the window).</p><p>Fuck it. He was worried and there was nothing he could do about it; he just had to trudge forward. </p><p>So he did.</p><p>“What about you?” He carefully eyed Tobio’s expression, trying to discern any cracks in the stable facade he was putting up. Tobio didn’t seem to understand why he would ask that so Atsumu sighed, slanting towards his figure, hands naturally gravitating to his puffy cheeks.</p><p>The younger boy went taut in his embrace, half-slouching, legs dangling from the bed as he held his breath, but Atsumu was too preoccupied by the feeling of cracked skin against his thumb to notice. Tobio winced at the gesture, the area around his eyes irritated. </p><p>He had been crying; Atsumu had noticed the second the younger boy stepped into the common room with filmy eyes and disarrayed hair. But he hadn’t noticed the inflamed skin before now and for some reason it made his chest tighten, grip on Tobio’s face fastening ever so slightly. </p><p><em>Worry</em>. With its unknown bounds and ability to make mouths uncharacteristically dry, it was a peculiar emotion reserved for family and close friends, but also shared with the strangers Atsumu saw in the corridors, especially the ones who had to go help out the groundskeeper. (Those animals were vicious if they didn’t like you). But as stretched out as it was, pinned from family to people who he would never see again to the exam paper that would be presented to him in the next few days, it never thinned where it mattered. The intensity of concern was bound to vary like all emotions did, but when Atsumu worried for Tobio it felt all too strong, too concentrated considering the little time they had actually spent together. It scared him honestly, because how could you feel so much in such little time?</p><p>“Are ya’ okay? ‘Cause like I said before, ya’ look like pure shit.” He drew his wand, aiming it at Tobio’s face. The younger boy flinched, but did not move away, and Atsumu offered him the kindest smile he could muster, “Don’t worry, I’m good at this. <em>Episkey</em>.”</p><p>The swelling around Tobio’s eyes began to die down, intense redness fading into the bronzed blends of his skin as he relaxed. He faintly felt his face, no longer grimacing at every little touch.</p><p>"Thank you for that Miya-san." He ducked his head a little because of course he did. It was Tobio after all, sweet, polite Kageyama Tobio that had managed to make Atsumu fret over him out of the blue.</p><p>“Forget thanking me, just let me know what’s up with you. I ain’t never seen ya’ so down.”</p><p>Tobio immediately froze, rounded shoulders brought up half an inch as he steepled the pads of his fingers against each other. He was no longer meeting the older boy's gaze, instead choosing to furrow his brows and glare at the blanket strewn over his bed as if it held the meaning of life amongst its delicate woollen fabric.</p><p>“It’s really nothing serious.”</p><p>“But there <em>is</em> something wrong, isn’t there?” Atsumu took the silence that followed as a yes. He stared at Tobio, hoping that he could <em>will</em> him into speaking, but subtlety wasn’t exactly the younger boy’s speciality. Eyes squeezed shut, he tried again, “Tobio...I’m just worried.” </p><p>The words felt heavy on his tongue, and he hurriedly tacked on another phrase: “Y’know, thatcha weren’t enjoyin’ quidditch. Can’t have my only rival havin' second thoughts, can I?”</p><p>Tobio jolted at the accusation, frowning but at least not with a downcast look in his eyes anymore.</p><p> “No-- I would <em>never</em> give up quidditch.” He said it with such unwavering confidence that it made Atsumu’s chest swell.</p><p>“Good...Ya’ better mean that.”</p><p>“Why would I say it if I didn’t?”</p><p>And Atsumu chuckled: because why indeed? The simpleminded honesty Tobio possessed made him feel all sorts of comfort, and he leaned against the headboard, a smile playing on his lips as he was reminded yet again of the Gryffindor beater’s affinity for quidditch.</p><p>”There’s really nothing to worry about, Miya-san.”</p><p>Atsumu wasn’t really convinced, but now that Tobio didn’t look like he had been sobbing for the last three hours, his chest felt a little lighter and he was prepared to let it go.</p><p>Muffled sounds of the world around them seeped into the stillness of the dorm. The dripping of rain against the windowsill, the boisterous conversations from the common room downstairs, the creaking of floorboards as people walked down the hallway outside. Everything was serene and Atsumu sighed, slouching onto his side as he stared up at Tobio who was filing his nails with the utmost concentration. He nudged his knee with his forehead, capturing his attention.</p><p>From this angle, with his head against the mattress, Atsumu could see the perfect slope of Tobio’s nose. His long eyelashes kissed the skin of his upper-cheeks as he stared at him with those unfairly large, bluebell eyes. Then there was his lips, pinched and plump, puckered up into a faint pout like always. </p><p>(Did Tobio even realise that he did that? Atsumu wondered about it extensively, but didn’t ask in fear of making him overly conscious about it; he couldn’t risk him not doing it anymore.)</p><p>All of it birthed a fuzzy feeling in his stomach, and the thought that Tobio was rather beautiful invaded the shores of Atsumu’s mind. </p><p>
  <em>Holy shit he thought Kageyama was beautiful. </em>
</p><p>Now it was getting weird. Beautiful? What the <em>fuck</em>? That didn’t seem like something just rivals would say. But then again, he was just objectively stating a fact: Kageyama Tobio had a nice face. There wasn’t anything odd about admitting that right? It only meant that Atsumu had functioning eyes. Besides, finding someone marginally attractive didn’t <em>have</em> to mean anything-- </p><p>Atsumu came to the realisation that he had been staring for an awfully long time and blurted out the first question that came to his mind.</p><p>“What made you love quidditch, Tobio-kun?”</p><p>The question made the younger beater halt, and he set the nail file down, mouth twisted up in thought.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tobio bit his tongue, taken aback by the sudden question.</p><p>What made him love quidditch?</p><p>No one really asked him about the reason for his love, they just accepted that where there was Kageyama, there would always be quidditch and vice versa. </p><p>It wasn’t their fault, Tobio was aware of his perhaps unapproachable nature, and with his family being a long line of witches and wizards, it was safe for everyone to assume it was simply expected of him to be good at it. But Miya was the last person -- save for Oikawa, except for in the crush-induced reveries Tobio thought up  -- that he thought would ask him something like that. Yet here he was, unpredictable as ever, staring up at him expectantly.</p><p>Nostalgia swirled in the depths of Tobio's mind, and he could almost feel the wrinkled hand holding his much smaller one on the way back from a quidditch match. He remembered the story told over the dinner table on countless occasions, of little baby Tobio clutching onto his grandfather’s quaffle with an iron grip, remembered the way his sister retold her every match with vivid detail, and left him yearning for the day he would go to Hogwarts like her. The summers spent huddled around the telly, shouting and yelling and cheering as they watched every match they could, the advice his grandfather would give him on looking after his hands, the day he decided being a beater was all he wanted to do -- all of it came rushing back.</p><p>“My grandfather...he coached a local quidditch team, he used to let me and my sister go watch,” Tobio fiddled with his sleeve, unable to describe how much those years truly meant to him, so he settled with, “It was always fun and I decided I would play when I got to Hogwarts.”</p><p>“Hmm.” </p><p>“What about you Miya-san?”</p><p>Miya shuffled a little closer, his head now resting against Tobio’s knee, “Ma’s a muggle, and Pa’ ain’t with her anymore, but when we were kids, he’d show ‘Samu ‘n me all these wizard sports, like Wizard’s Chess, and Shuntbumps or whatever. But Quidditch really stuck out, and after the divorce we kept watching it even when we moved to live with our Ma’. But when I saw a beater for the first time, it was crazy; that’s when I really got hooked.”</p><p>Tobio met his gaze and saw that all-consuming fervidity burning away in the bronze of his eyes.</p><p>“With the way he was playin’, it was like he was sayin’ ‘I’ll <em>letcha </em>score’.” Miya grinned, it was childish almost, “It was so cool; how could I <em>not</em> wanna be like him?”</p><p>That made Tobio smile before he could even stop himself. It wasn’t easy for him to explain why he loved being a beater so much, and even though the way Miya put it wasn’t exactly what he would have said, it was nice to have someone who appreciated the position as much as him around.</p><p>“Got any snacks? M’starvin’.” Miya swung his legs off the bed, clutching his stomach as he reached towards some drawers.</p><p>“Ah. I don’t but I’m sure Hinata does.”</p><p>Tobio walked over to the other bed, opening up Hinata’s top drawer to reveal a stash of snacks from Honeydukes, ranging from Chocolate Frogs to Fizzing Whizzbees to Every Flavour Beans and everything in between. It was like a jackpot of sugary, colourful junk that an athlete should never put in his body. Except for when his loud, ginger roommate wasn’t around to guard them.</p><p>“Holy shit...No wonder shrimpy’s so fast,” said Atsumu, crouching besides him, “Ya’ sure he won’t mind us muchin’ on his stuff?”</p><p>Now it was Tobio’s turn to huff, “Who cares? The dumbass owes me anyway. He took my last pack of Cauldron Cakes.”</p><p>Miya snorted, and an amused smirk spread across his face, “You’re <em>mean</em> Tobio-kun.” But that didn’t stop him from crossing his legs and grabbing the nearest snack.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tobio didn’t really know how the afternoon ended up bleeding into twilight, rainfall subsiding and clouds parting into the ebony tenting of the night sky. He didn’t understand how he had ended up chatting about every topic under the sun with Atsumu either, straying from quidditch. At one point they had even begun discussing pets, and Tobio had bashfully admitted his fear of animals not liking him. To which Atsumu had chortled and teased, before likening him to a black cat and ruffling his hair. </p><p>(He had been doing that a lot more casually and Tobio didn’t have the heart to stop him, nor did he want to, even despite the way it made his stomach flip.)</p><p>Sweet wrappers had been scattered on the floor of his dorm like rainbow confetti, as they had leaned against the bed frame, feeling sick from how much they had stuffed their mouths with. The two of them may not have even realised how late it had gotten if it weren’t for Hinata coming back to the dorm after hanging out with Kenma, and catching them red handed with his sweets. The screaming match between him and Tobio had rendered Atsumu into a chuckling mess, laughter loud and rowdy, but not failing to coddle Tobio up in its warmth.</p><p>And now, Tobio lay in his bed, wrapped up in his blanket, drifting away to sleep, not even realising that since Atsumu had stepped into Gryffindor Tower that afternoon, he hadn’t thought of Oikawa once.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>On the other side of the castle, behind a bare stretch of stone wall down in the dungeons that led to the Slytherin common room, Miya Atsumu lay on his side, unable to explain the smile on his face when Osamu pointed it out. (Though he had described it more as ‘<em>an</em> <em>ugly fuckin’ smirk</em>’.)</p><p>And that unexplainable smile was one of many, scattered between private quidditch practice, random occurrences of running into Tobio in the hallways and the way their eyes had met after Slytherin beat Ravenclaw in the final match of the year.</p><p>Despite it all, Atsumu went home that year with a heavy feeling in his chest that just refused to identify itself. </p><p>And in the end, it took a joke from Osamu, a Triwizard Cup, foreign students, a Yule Ball and <em>Oikawa</em> <em>fucking</em> <em>Tooru</em>, for Atsumu to realise what the cause of those smiles was.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>aaaaaa so that's the first chapter! thanks for reading &lt;33333</p><p>atsukage give me constant brainrot so me writing about them was bound to happen sooner or later. plus the sheer lack of atsukage fics makes me upset and so i just had to write SOMETHING y’know.</p><p>this was really just them getting to know each other and start to sorta like e/o but since they're CLOWNS they just don't realise it. stay tuned for the next chapter for Yule Ball Angst™, more quidditch, and realisations &lt;33</p><p>also if you also want to scream about atskg with me follow my twt: kaikxge</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. dance with me tonight, let me call you mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Atsumu makes some devastating discoveries about his feelings for Tobio over the course of the Triwizard Tournament and Tobio seeks solace in his newest friend.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>A plume of smoke rose steadily, a flowing body of alabaster upon the deep blue of the early September sky, the effects of summer still clutching on for as long as possible.</p><p>Amongst the rushing congregation, Miya Atsumu stood still, staring ahead as his brother droned on about something trivial. Despite the myriad of passing faces, his eyes locked firmly onto the figure of Kageyama Tobio, who was now a little taller than last summer, but not yet towering over Atsumu.</p><p>(Thank god; he was competitive about things like this).</p><p>Atsumu didn’t need to think twice to walk straight to him because he had undoubtedly missed this, so much so that he didn’t even bother telling his twin where he was going.</p><p>The six weeks that usually fleeted by in an instant had turned out to be an excruciatingly prolonged period without confused frowns and challenging eyes.</p><p>It was odd really, this unidentified want that he had for Tobio. Lines were getting blurred with every passing second, and Atsumu was all too aware of it. Especially after having undergone such an efficacious fixation all on his own for six weeks, mind being unhelpfully and abruptly thrust back to the younger boy by the most insignificant things.</p><p>The colour of the sky, like his eyes. The milk in the fridge, his favourite drink. The fresh, minty smell of gum, like the inviting scent of Tobio.</p><p>The notion of...<em>whatever</em> this was, being mere rivalry had been abandoned a long time ago, lost someplace in between challenging smirks, attentive neptune-blue eyes and healing injuries on his face because he could not reach the scars in his heart. Not yet. Now the final hurdle for Atsumu’s sanity was identifying what exactly had been smeared and buried between suffocating layers of confusion and unendurable distance.</p><p>“‘Sup Tobio-kun,” Atsumu said, sliding beside the Gryffindor beater, catching him by surprise, “Ya’ been good?”</p><p>“Miya-san, hi.” Tobio greeted, the beginnings of what Atsumu would like to have been a smile tugging at his lips, “Yes, I’ve been good, what about you?”</p><p>Good; Atsumu pondered if that was what he had been. Was that possible? Not with the thoughts of Tobio that had been so persistent that his mother had grown increasingly worried about his aloof behaviour. Good? Was the ever-present burning in the pit of his stomach a favourable sign, or was it a bad omen of what was yet to come? Was he supposed to care? Because he really didn’t.</p><p>Despite the benumbed ache settling in between his ribs, having Tobio right there, within a distance to see—<em>touch</em> if he really dared, though he didn’t understand where that desire sprung from—it was like every moment in time collected before him.</p><p>And god that felt good—to feel like he had all the time in the world.</p><p>"Yeah, I think I'm real good too." Atsumu smiled, swallowing the impromptu urge to follow it up with, <em>‘better now that I'm here (with you)’</em>.</p><p>What the hell was that? What did his brain even want?</p><p>This unexplainable craving lived and died with Tobio, sprouted from his plays on the pitch and grew with the softened personality he concealed under layers of frowns and sharp glares. It was a seed planted back in the training camp last year, watered by an eventful match that proved Atsumu wrong, the soil of a mutual love for quidditch nurturing it. The only problem was that even as the stem grew and leaves began to sprout, Atsumu could not—<em>not for the life of him</em>—identify what the fuck it was that he had planted. All he knew was that it was growing, rapidly, and driving him mad, delphinium spores sprouting to barricade his throat with their cerulean petals.</p><p>He was about to begin talking again when he caught sight of something curling between Tobio's feet. With wide eyes, Atsumu bent onto his knees, cooing at the cat that had seemingly materialised out of nowhere. Startled by the sudden appearance of a new figure, it yowled, retreating to the safety of being behind Tobio’s legs.</p><p>Atsumu pouted slightly, "Ah, c'mon kitty, I ain't <em>that</em> bad am I?"</p><p>There was a breezy chuckle from above and Atsumu shot his head up to catch a glimpse of the rare occasion. Tobio laughing: he painstakingly wondered what that looked like. Did his cheeks rise like little dumplings or did they dip? Did dimples form and accentuate his smile or not? Did his nose crinkle and did his eyes light up?</p><p>His reaction was too late and the precious moment had already passed as Tobio settled down with a blank face, gently scooping up the cat, “Ah I’m sorry about her.”</p><p>It took a moment for Atsumu to register that this was Tobio’s cat. Tobio. Kageyama <em>“I’m afraid animals don’t like me”</em> Tobio. He had to suppress the chuckle threatening to escape his lips, because Jesus. Tobio really looked adorable coddling the cat like that; his long arms were caved at an odd angle and to anyone else he may have looked awkward, like he was struggling, but Atsumu knew better. He didn’t know <em>why</em> he knew better, but he just <em>did</em>. He could tell from the wobbly upwards curve of Tobio’s lips that he was happy. And happiness was a shade that really suited the hues of his face; the azure of his eyes, light and carefree.</p><p>“She’s just shy.”</p><p>“Like her owner, huh?” Atsumu teased, “Course ya’ picked a right goody-two-shoes for a pet; I’m just too cool for ya’ both.”</p><p>Tobio scoffed, “Sure, Miya-san. Keep believing that.”</p><p>Atsumu was stunned when he followed it up with a little roll of the eyes. Did Tobio just say that to him? Did Tobio just use sarcasm? He was even more astonished by the little giggle he let out afterwards. Holy shit Kageyama just <em>teased</em> him.</p><p>Who taught him sarcasm? Was he dreaming?</p><p>The only way to check was by smacking himself in the face but he didn’t do that in fear of looking like an idiot.</p><p>“Yikes Tobio-kun, how couldja say somethin’ so cruel?” Atsumu feigned shock, dramatically draping a hand over his heart, trying to ignore how the exchange made his chest tighten.</p><p>Tobio had always been polite to him; he was all bowed heads and quick apologies, not missing a beat to go back on his words. And that felt like a wall between them, like he didn’t view him as someone close, like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. But this, unexpected as it was, was a sign of changing tides, of that cracks in that looming wall, sunlight breaking through.</p><p>Atsumu didn’t care for formality, and Tobio seemed as though it came to him as an afterthought, so this had to mean he was relaxing in his presence right? Was he clutching onto straws? The thought of Tobio warning up to him brought a pacifying serenity to his chest, gentle ripples in the lake of his emotions, so fuck it—who cared if he was looking into it too much?</p><p>He grinned and turned his attention back to the matter at hand, “What’s her name?”</p><p>“Sumi.”</p><p>Atsumu ran his hand over the anthracite coat of the kitten, who did not shy away this time, meekly stepping towards him with some light encouragement from Tobio. Sumi. <em>‘Black ink’</em>.</p><p><em>Of course</em>, he thought with a little smile playing at the corner of his lips.</p><p>“So how didja go from thinkin’ animals hate ya’ to owning a pet?”</p><p>“I was in Diagon Alley a few months ago, and I went into the pet shop for an owl actually, since Hinata wouldn’t shut up about his owl.” Atsumu chuckled at the annoyed face Tobio pulled, clearly as competitive with Shouyou as ever.</p><p>“What’d Shouyou-kun ever do to you?”</p><p>“Be a dumbass.” Again Atsumu laughed, because Tobio just filled him with this searing warmth that forced itself out in little, carefree gestures, “But then I saw Sumi and I had to pick her, because I remembered what you told me last year.”</p><p>Atsumu was taken back by the sudden admission, and even more taken back by the way Tobio kept talking, like he was just meant to know what he was going on about, “Wait. Wait. Whaddya’ mean?”</p><p>“When you came to Gryffindor Tower after my match with Ravenclaw, you said I reminded you of a cat sometimes,” Tobio half-pouted, letting Sumi curl up in his lap again, “I just saw her and thought, why not?”</p><p>Atsumu felt something in his chest tighten, like someone just pulled on its drawstrings, shutting it off to anyone other than Tobio. Christ, was Tobio going to give him some sort of heart problem? Should he see a doctor about this? And really, he barely remembered the conversation, but by god was he right. Looking at Tobio now, with Sumi to compare against, only furthered his point. Plus there was his whole reserved personality, and Atsumu couldn’t help finding everything about him endearing.</p><p>“Ya’ remember that?”</p><p>Tobio nodded, suddenly grimacing as his face reddened ever so slightly, “Was I not supposed to? Is that weird?”</p><p>“What? No, no way. M’just surprised is all.” Then, Atsumu smirked ever so slightly, always glad to tease the younger beater, “Didn’t know ya’ thought so hard ‘bout the things I said.”</p><p>“Wha—”</p><p>“Kageyama! Hurry up, or Daichi’ll be mad.” A shrill cry that could only be Shouyou, interrupted Kageyama who just furrowed his brows, sighing as he turned to find the owner of the voice.</p><p>“Shit. Sorry, Miya-san, I’ve got to go.” He half-bowed his head, apparently not causal enough to stop calling Atsumu that. The older boy made a mental note to tell him to stop that.</p><p>“It ain’t no problem, Tobio-kun. See ya’ round, ‘kay?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>And with that, Atsumu was left watching Tobio’s retreating figure, aforementioned heart problems starting up all over again.</p><p><em>This year</em>, Atsumu swore, <em>this year I’ll figure him out</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tobio didn’t like new people. That fact pretty much everyone who knew him was aware of, so nobody was surprised when he wasn’t a big fan of the whole Triwizard Tournament. In fact, when he had been informed of the event by the Iwaizumi, now the head Gryffindor prefect, his first question had been about quidditch practice, which even <em>Hinata</em> thought was excessive.</p><p>Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to have three schools cooped up in Hogwarts? And with all the events that came along with the tournament, what would happen to the Inter-House Cup and private quidditch practice? If Tobio didn’t get to play as much quidditch as usual he was afraid something crazy would happen.</p><p>(Tsukishima sneered that he may grow antlers to which Tobio stuck up a middle finger and bickered until Yamaguchi had to tear them apart).</p><p>“Wah, look at that,” Hinata grabbed Tobio by his robes, shaking him violently one late October afternoon, the landscape peppered with dull orange and brown hues, “They’re here.”</p><p>And sure as hell they were.</p><p>A multitude of rushing students had assembled in the courtyard overlooking the Forbidden Forest, gawking at the shapes that burst out over the horizon. Light from the sun refracted against the surface of a series of flying carriages, sending little rainbows out into the humid autumn air, as gigantic, winged horses whinnied, hauling along blurs of light blue.</p><p>And, as if it was a challenge to the invasion from the sky, the sea thundered with its own attack, surface splitting to reveal a ship rising from the waters. Slowly, and with a level of decorum that Tobio had never seen before, the vessel’s murky light shimmered through the dense mist layering the waters that splashed against the ragged cliff Hogwarts was built upon. Its entire body emerged with a creaking noise, bobbing towards the bank.</p><p>From beside Tobio, Hinata let out another astonished yap, “It’s them, that scary school...Drum...Durm-something?”</p><p>“It's Drumstog, dumbass.” Tobio announced with all the confidence in the world, and glared when Yamaguchi and Tsukishima snickered from the side.</p><p>“First off, you’re both idiots,” Tsukishima rolled his eyes when Hinata and Tobio both began shouting over him, “It’s <em>Durmstrang</em> and don’t even attempt to pronounce <em>Beauxbatons</em> because I’m sure you’ll butcher it.”</p><p>That was enough for the duo to begin yelling again. Tobio really hated how well the Ravenclaw could grind their gears.</p><p>In the end, the sight of two large groups of students and teachers descending from their carriages and bards, only confirmed Tobio’s initial thought: there were way too many people in the castle. When they burst forth the doors to the grand hall, with their intricate—read eyesore—showcases, unusual uniforms sticking out, he just knew it was going to be a troublesome year.</p><p>Tobio tuned out the rest of the speech from their headmaster that evening, and even as everyone around him seemed to buzz with excitement over the tournament, he absently stared at the ceiling projection of a night sky, counting the blazing stars dotted against the dark denim, floating candles flickering all around.</p><p>Eventually his gaze did what it always did, and dipped from the enchanting sight above, to the Ravenclaw table across from his, settling on the familiar, flawless face of Oikawa Tooru and his heart pricked with an uneasy feeling as the thought of this being the older beater’s last year at Hogwarts introduced itself.</p><p>Yeah, this year was going to <em>suck</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Atsumu stared with wide wide eyes, head tilted at angle as he examined the Goblet of Fire. He was all too enthused by the way sapphire flames flickered and danced on the grey, metal surface of the goblet. The way it towered in the centre of the hall only drew him to it further, and thankfully the ageline that the headmaster had enchanted was no longer a problem, or else he would have been struck back right about now.</p><p>“Oi, ‘Tsumu. Who said you could put yer name in first?” Osamu grabbed his twin by the collar of his gown, yanking him back with no regard for the people around them, nor with any mercy.</p><p>It seemed like the age-line was not the only barrier hell bent on keeping Atsumu away.</p><p>“Since when do I gotta ask ya’ to do somethin’?” Atsumu whined, only receiving a roll of the eyes in response.</p><p>“I saw Aran-kun put his name in, and I knew ya wouldn’t be able ta’ keep your promise, ‘cause yer an idiot obviously.”</p><p>“M’older than ya! Show some respect, jerkwad.” Atsumu shrieked, only managing to piss his brother off more, “Plus, what <em>promise</em>?”</p><p>“Ya’ said I’m allowed to put my name in first,” Osamu’s expression would seem as bored as ever to anyone else, but Atsumu knew his twin and there was no way this asshole was telling the truth.</p><p>“Yer poker face sucks ass by the way ‘Samu. I ain’t promised ya’ nothin’.”</p><p>“Just like ya’ ain’t eat all my damn fizzle pops?”</p><p>“I already toldja! I didn’t eat none of your damn sweets.”</p><p>“Yer a pathological fuckin’ liar ‘Tsumu.”</p><p>“Oiiiiiiii, don’t ya start, ya--”</p><p>“Um. Excuse me. Can I please get through?” A shy voice stopped them mid-swing, and they caught sight of a tall, rather gorgeous girl and her friends watching them fight in front of everyone.</p><p>And maybe they felt a little shame prickling at them, so let go of each other's jumpers instantly.</p><p>Osamu cleared his throat, "Sorry. We'll get out of your way."</p><p>He pulled Atsumu along with him as the Beauxbatons girl stepped past the fire to put her name in, the other cheering her on. But the sight became worthless once he saw Tobio seated on the benches across the room, with Shouyou and his blonde Hufflepuff friend, studying away. The latter two were packing up, and Atsumu frowned once he realised Oikawa was stalling over to talk to Tobio. He didn't pay any attention to Osamu, the cogs of his mind focused on something else entirely. </p><p>Atsumu didn’t think twice before making his way across the hall to the benches where Tobio was now almost alone, his two friends— Shouyou and the blonde girl from Hufflepuff—slipping away, leaving only him, a pile of scattered books and the president of the Ushijima hate club himself, Oikawa Tooru. And from the twisted frown on Tobio’s face, it was evident that he wasn’t enjoying whatever conversation they were having.</p><p>“Hey Tobio-kun, studyin’ hard?” He didn’t hesitate to slide onto the bench beside him, wrapping a hand around his shoulder so their figures pressed together.</p><p>“My, my. Fancy running into you here, Tsum-chan.” Oikawa chirped, his voice dripping in some fictitious friendliness.</p><p>“We’re at the same school Tooru-kun, it ain’t all that surprisin’ ta’ see ya’,'' Atsumu gleamed up at him, filled to the brim with something that could easily be confused with faked sweetness, “Ya’ ready for our match? S’in a couple weeks, ain’t it?”</p><p>But Miya Atsumu didn’t do ‘faked sweetness’. His words meant what they meant, always have, always will. All he really ever did was cock up an eyebrow and leer a little; he aggravated, he challenged, he pushed buttons that shouldn’t have pressed and he did it all with a smile on his face. That wasn’t faked sweetness. That was thinly veiled provocation.</p><p>He simply didn’t believe in pandering to the masses, if he had something to say he would say it, but a part of him didn’t want to come off as an asshole in front of Tobio.</p><p>He felt Tobio tense up in his grip, shifting awkwardly at the turn in conversation; he knew that looking away from Tooru now would be a loss, like an admittance of defeat and there was no fucking way he was losing to him. Still, his hand itched to reassure Tobio in some way, so he let it, palm heading straight to the back of Tobio’s neck, thumb pressing soothing patterns up its column until his fingers sat in the base of his hair. Tobio leaned into the touch and Atsumu’s insides felt like they were on fire.</p><p>“Ready to destroy you Slytherins, yes.” Oikawa’s voice unhelpfully drew his attention away from how gentle Tobio was in his palms, how precious and breakable. The Ravenclaw was staring at him with a vigilant gleam, a knowing smirk pulling across his mouth, “You’re close to Tobio-chan, clearly.”</p><p>Atsumu tried to quell the way his body stiffened, unsure of why Tooru’s words threw him off. He simply nodded, leaning his head on Tobio’s shoulder, “We like playing quidditch together, why?”</p><p>Tooru just smiled, “No reason. I’ll look forward to beating you...both of you.” His gaze lingered on Kageyama who gulped, lips quivering, “Practice well, Tobio-chan.”</p><p>And with that he was gone, like the east wind, constantly evading mankind. Atsumu just scoffed, about to turn to Tobio and call Tooru dramatic, when the sight of a reddened Tobio stole the words from his tongue.</p><p>Did Tobio have a <em>thing</em> for Tooru?</p><p>No.</p><p>No way. Maybe he was just warm, or maybe he was sick. There was no way that Kageyama Tobio had a thing for Oikawa Tooru. Not when he looked at him like that, like he was nothing but an obstacle to overcome. Atsumu wouldn’t have it. He wasn’t accepting that.</p><p>“Miya-san...I’ve kinda got to go.” Tobio croaked from his side, and Atsumu realised he was still holding onto him, letting go instantly, “I’ve got to get to Charms class.”</p><p>“Shit ya’ better hurry,” Atsumu exclaimed as soon as he caught sight of the clock, “The new charms professor <em>hates</em> it when someone’s late. He’s like a fuckin’ ogre on a rampage.”</p><p>Tobio huffed out a laugh, gathering his stuff, “See you, Miya-san!”</p><p>“See you, Tobio-kun.” Atsumu watched Tobio’s retreating figure, constrictions flaring up in his chest all over again. He sighed, unable to swallow down the uncomfortable lump that had lodged itself in his throat.</p><p>“I get it now.” Atsumu screeched at the sudden appearance of his brother beside him, earning a roll of the eyes, “Shut it ‘Tsumu.”</p><p>“What the fuck do you want ‘Samu?” He groaned, leaning back against the benches, “M’tired.”</p><p>Osamu grinned, the type of grin that Atsumu knew led to bad things, the type of grin the preceded a prank or a kick, “I’ve finally cracked it...you’ve been weird all summer and even with all these new faces around ya’ haven’t paid any attention to anyone.” He paused for dramatic effect, but despite the boredom in his tone, there was a pesky taunt, glinting in his eyes, “Anyone other than Tobio-kun that is.”</p><p>Atsumu tilted his head, utterly confused as to what Osamu was trying to get at. And his brother just clicked his tongue before leaning in, a teasing edge to his voice.</p><p>“Yer into Tobio-kun, ain’tcha?”</p><p>Atsumu felt like the sky had just come crashing down.</p><p>He didn't end up putting his name in the goblet that day, or ever.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Quidditch is everything to Kageyama Tobio. That much everyone knew; it was hard facts.</p><p>That was why the period when autumn and winter blended was his favourite; because it marked the start of the House Cup and therefore, quidditch mania. However, this year was not like the past five years he had spent in Hogwarts. And although most quidditch-related events were scheduled for similar dates to every year, Tobio found that the general school body was distracted.</p><p>His closest friends were—regrettably—no exception to this horrible curse.</p><p>The Three Broomsticks Inn was buzzing with life, filled to the brim with students from Hogwarts as well as the visiting schools. A celebration was at full blast, and through the window, Tobio could see the cobbled streets lined with boisterous teenagers, weaving through shops and blowing their pocket money on sweets and repairs to wands and brooms alike. Apparently, it was only natural; after all, the first event of the Triwizard Tournament only happened two days ago.</p><p>Ojiro Aran, the Hogwarts champion—although Tobio recognised him better from the Hufflepuff quidditch team—had fought off a Romanian Horntail Dragon in record-breaking time. Which was, admittedly, cool but Tobio thought his plays on the pitch had always been a little cooler.</p><p>He just sighed, taking in the smell of cinnamon, butterbeer, and timber crackling in a fireplace. On the side table, he could see a gathering of Durmstrang boys that Hinata kept eyeing up—too enthralled for his own good.</p><p>He didn’t get it. He really didn’t get it. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t try—god, he’d tried so fucking hard to understand everyone’s obsession, but he genuinely couldn’t—it was like thinned fog, a smoke-screen, the answers eluding him at every clumsy endeavour to capture them in his palms.</p><p>What in Merlin’s name, did everyone find so fascinating about those foreign schools? (And by extension, that stupid, fruitless Triwizard Tournament).</p><p>“Aren’t they cool?” Hinata exclaimed, obviously in a voice too loud for an inside space, earning them a little glare from the owner of the establishment, “Durmstrang, I mean. They have that chaser; the one who played in their real league even though he’s only eighteen!”</p><p>Tobio slumped in his seat: there he went again. It was only a matter of time before Hinata struck up some unavoidable rivalry with their chaser as he had done with almost every quidditch player within a three-mile radius of Hogwarts. Ushijima, Hoshiumi and Lev were merely the beginnings of a long string of people yet to come—Tobio, himself, forming the very start. Teammates or not, Hinata had vowed to crush him one day, and well, Tobio would like to see him try.</p><p>“What’s his name again?”</p><p>Tsukishima clicked his tongue, pushing back his glasses, “Wakatsu Kiryuu; Bokuto-san is very interested in him.”</p><p>The mention of Bokuto sent Hinata into another tangent, detailing some story about a new trick he showed him during private practice the other day. And the thought of private practice made Tobio pout, staring down at the butterbeer in front of him, the tangerine colour swirling with foam and bubbles.</p><p>It had been a little while since he had played quidditch with Miya.</p><p>With all these events going on and studying for his OWLs, Tobio felt that his quidditch levels were precariously low. In fact, the last time he had played at all was for tryouts in early October, and now it was almost the end of November. He was surprised he hadn't dropped down dead by now. The team kept practising, of course, but they hadn't played a real practice match in forever.</p><p>"Yachi-san, you seem distracted!" Hinata exclaimed out of nowhere, causing the girl sitting beside Tobio to jump, tearing him away from his thoughts.</p><p>Yachi shook her head adamantly, fingers invariably playing with the sleeve of her jacket. Her face looked rather rosy, perhaps due to the cold air outside, but they had entered here a while ago now. She lifted her glass and took a tentative sip of her drink, but Tobio couldn't help but notice the little shakes in her hands.</p><p>"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, narrowing his gaze. He knew Yachi could often get nervous about things, but right now it was just them and nothing that should be bothering her—not that he could tell anyway.</p><p>Yamaguchi snickered, leaning back into his chair, "I think she's having a grand old time actually."</p><p>“Yamaguchi! Stop it!” Yachi blurted, hands going straight to her face as if she wanted to hide away from the world.</p><p>Tobio tilted his head; it didn't really look like she was having the grand old time Yamaguchi thought she was. Tsukishima expressed his annoyance at Hinata and Tobio's twin reactions by letting out a groan, then discretely pointing out a cluster of students from Beauxbatons, seated on the table across from them.</p><p>A troupe of girls were chattering away, clearly not aware that they were the centre of attention for everybody in the room. Tobio noticed the way everyone’s eyes seemed to drift to them, like they were something otherworldly. He recognised that, yes, they were rather pretty girls, but he wondered if any of them played quidditch, and what the hell they had to do with Yachi.</p><p>“That one in the middle,” Yamaguchi shifted closer to Hinata and Kageyama, his voice hushed, “Her name is Amanai Kanoka; you know, the Beauxbatons champion.” A wry smile cracked onto his face as he began nudging Yachi in the arm, “And <em>someone</em>, thinks she’s really—”</p><p>“Shut up!” Yachi shrieked, face so red that it wouldn’t have been ridiculous to assume someone had cast a spell on her. She put her forehead against the table, earning a few amused titters from the rest of the boys on the table while Tobio just frowned.</p><p>He didn’t really understand what was so funny. Even Hinata seemed to have understood what the ever loving fuck was going on.</p><p>“She’s part Veela by the way,” Tsukishima informed, flipping through his book as though they weren’t even having a conversation, “And she’s the lead chaser on her team. Any French team in the league would be lucky to have her play for them.”</p><p>That sparked Tobio’s interest and he stopped slouching, eyes finding Kanoka in the crowd. She was tall, with a nice stature; perfect for quidditch. Though, he wasn’t one to believe that there were physical limitations to being great; Hinata was walking proof of that. But everything about Kanoka screamed athlete, from her perfect posture to her pixie cut, short black hair kept out of her eyes. It was then that he noticed he wasn’t the only one staring.</p><p>From the table, Yachi stole glances at the Beauxbatons champion from the gaps between her fingers, like she was afraid of being caught staring.</p><p>“Yachi-san, why are you hiding from Amanai-san?” His intentions were innocent, but from the borderline evil looks Hinata and Yamaguchi were shooting her now, it seemed that he had unearthed a conversation he hadn’t intended to open.</p><p>Hinata squealed, “Yachi-san’s got a <em>crush</em>!”</p><p>“I do not!”</p><p>“Do too!”</p><p>“Do not!”</p><p>“You do too! You’re literally the colour of a tomato and all I’ve done is mention her name.”</p><p>Yamaguchi chortled at the way Yachi just let out a frustrated groan, collapsing back onto the table with a sigh.</p><p>“<em>Okay</em>...okay I like her.” Her expression softened, voice a mere whisper as a faint smile pulled at her lips, “But who wouldn’t? She’s gorgeous and strong and cool and did you <em>see</em> her fight that Swiss Green Dragon?”</p><p>Yachi all but sighed and Tobio had to consider the possibility of a love potion being involved.</p><p>“You sound like you're in <em>love</em>.” Hinata sing-songed, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, clearly ecstatic to have something to tease Yachi with.</p><p>“Like you’re one to talk.” Tsukishima stated, pushing back his glasses, “We’ve all seen the way you look at a certain <em>Kozume Kenma</em>.”</p><p>Hinata spluttered out a string of words that Tobio assumed were meant to be an explanation for the way he and Kenma seemed to be whipped for each other. Instead, his blushing face and stuttering only made him look more guilty of Tsukishima’s accusation.</p><p>Yachi giggled, reaching over to pet his head, “I think it's really sweet how much you like him, Hinata-kun.”</p><p>“You guys are never gonna let this go, are you?” Hinata asked, getting a chorus of no as a fitting response, and his shoulders slumped.</p><p>“Kanoka! You’re our priority!” The voice of one of the Beauxbatons’ girls rang above their conversation, and Tobio spied her hanging onto Kanoka’s arm, cat-like eyes open wide as her brown hair fell down her face in messy bangs, “You’re a champion. You have to <em>have</em> a date.”</p><p>“I know. I know. I just don’t know who to ask.”</p><p>Yachi bit her lip, “A date for what?” She whispered, turning to Tsukishima who they all assumed had the answers to everything.</p><p>“Do you guys know <em>nothing</em> about what goes on around here?” The four blank faces he got in response, seemed to be an indication of affirmation and he rolled his eyes for the upteenth time, “A date for the Yule Ball. It’s a tradition for a dance to take place every Triwizard Tournament. The champions lead it, and out of everyone, they need a dance partner the most.”</p><p>“Yachi-san! This is your chance!” Hinata scream-whispered, shaking the poor girl by the shoulders before the realisation hit him, “Holy shit. I should ask Kenma. Would he even want to go? I’ll make him go!”</p><p>Tobio let his surroundings turn to static, Hinata and Yachi’s excitement turning to crackles of background noise as he sipped the rest of his drink at a leisurely pace. Kenma and Kanoka seemed like really lovely people; it made sense for Hinata and Yachi to gush over them like they do, but Tobio would rather have been on his broom right about now, feeling the wind tangling with his hair, filling up his lungs—every alveoli saturated with quidditch.</p><p>Tongue tingling with the sticky sweetness of his warm drink, he thought of Miya. Quidditch and Miya went hand in hand it seemed; it made sense. Tobio didn’t really know him outside of it. A part of him didn’t need to; a part of him saw Miya Atsumu on the pitch no matter where he was, whether it be outside the broomstick cupboard in the late hours of the night, or on his bed, drying tears and sharing the root of his passion. He always saw him, bat in hand, lust for winning imprinted in his eyes.</p><p>But maybe he wanted to see him outside of the pitch too.</p><p>And maybe he <em>did</em>. Maybe he saw flickers of a boy with many dimensions in fleeting moments shared between matches and quidditch practice, between fighting one another and improving one another, between competition and mutual respect.</p><p>Maybe he should ask Miya to play today. Maybe, maybe, maybe.</p><p>Tobio fastened his grip on his glass, glancing up to check the time. It was only early afternoon; one of the pitches would be bound to be free. It was a Sunday after all, and team practice was not allowed on a Sunday. The Slytherin beater should be free today too; he just had to find him.</p><p>He huffed before finishing his butterbeer, frowning as he thought up where Miya could possibly be. But it seemed the universe was on his side, as a familiar face entered the Three Broomsticks Inn, trying to seek shelter from the cold.</p><p>The Miya twins, accompanied by Aran, walked past tables bickering as always and Tobio had to stifle a snort of laughter—seriously, what was with the two of them? In his transfixion, he failed to realise that the twins were heading his way, nor did he realise that his friends were giving him a few odd stares.</p><p>Tobio almost jumped when he caught sight of Atsumu standing by his side, a wooly hat covering his hair, mittens coddling his hands.</p><p>“Sup, Miya-san.”</p><p>Before the boy replied, a hand grabbed Tobio’s right shoulder, pulling him closer to themselves, “Tobio-kun, I’m <em>here</em>!”</p><p>And sure as hell, when Tobio looked up, he was met with the sight of a pouting, whining Miya Atsumu, blond hair ruffled and a hat dumped on the seat beside him. He looked back to see who the hell he’d just greeted, only to be met with a chucking Osamu.</p><p>“Oh. Sorry, Miya-san.” Tobio stated, before greeting both twins, “Hello. And hello again Osamu-san.”</p><p>An offended gasp filled the air, and Miya settled beside him, a childish look all over his face, “<em>Osamu</em>? Why’d ya’ call ‘Samu by his first name ‘n not me?”</p><p>Osamu just rolled his eyes, pulling Aran over to get their drinks.</p><p>“He likes the same sorts of sweets as me. We’ve met at Honeydukes before.” Tobio explained monotonously, unphased by the look of pure sulking that Miya was trying to hit him with.</p><p>“But why Osamu?” The older boy’s hand snaked around Tobio’s shoulder, “Ain’t I yer favourite?”</p><p>Tobio just huffed, denying that claim completely, “Osamu-san always gives me Chocolate Frogs when I see him at Honeydukes. What’d you ever give me other than a headache? Plus, it would be confusing if I called you both Miya-san.”</p><p>“Tobio-kun yer so cruel to me!” Griped the Slytherin beater, collapsing into Tobio’s figure, clearly moving to continue his habit of whinging until Tobio felt bad, when a cough interrupted them.</p><p>Tobio and Miya moved at the same time, both rearing their heads to realise they were being watched by Tobio’s entire friend group. For reasons unknown to him, Tobio’s face flushed with heat, especially at the amused look Yamaguchi sent his way.</p><p>Miya cleared his throat, “Shouyou-kun. Ravenclaw keeper. Hufflepuffs whose names I’m yet to learn.”</p><p>Tsukki scoffed, as Hinata cocked up a brow, “What brings you here Atsumu-san?”</p><p>“Was celebratin’ with Aran-kun.” He grinned, baring his teeth, pearly white and practically gleaming under the pub lights, “Didja know he grew up in the same neighbourhood?”</p><p>Tobio watched as Miya animatedly recalled childhood memories of Aran, how their parents were friends, how he was a muggle-born wizard. The words made his smile grow, reminiscence forming an aurelian glow around him, cheeks highlighted in a youthful gold—amber eyes ablaze with a glee that Tobio found comfort in seeing.</p><p>“Oi, ‘Tsumu. Me ‘n Aran are headin’ off.” Osamu reappeared, leaving his empty bottle of mead with his twin, “See ya’.”</p><p>Tobio saw the ghost of a smirk on his face, but did not comment, not even when he noticed the way Atsumu’s mouth twitched and his ears bloomed a pretty shade of red.</p><p>Instead he faced the older boy, asking the question he had wanted to ask this entire time, “Miya-san, would you like to go play quidditch?”</p><p>Miya beamed, standing up immediately, “Race ya’ back?”</p><p>Tobio let out a puff of air through his nose, thoroughly amused by the competitive spike in Miya’s tone, the way soft lines of his face harshened, sharper than ever before—like he would race Tobio to the ends of the earth and back. Something about that thought sent a pulse of warmth throughout his body.</p><p>“See you at the pitch.” He knew the look he was giving Miya was feral, he could feel it in the way his heart erratically raced around his chest, but not nearly as fast as the way Tobio dashed for the door, with Miya half a step behind, accusing him of being a cheat.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Several hours later, the pair of them found themselves sitting in the Great Hall, a mug of hot chocolate placed between each of their hands, cold and pink from the chilled early winter air. Maybe playing a game of quidditch up in the freezing winds that Mother Nature had cast upon the Hogwarts pitches, was a bad idea, but neither of them had half a mind to care, fulfilled by every point and block and every second in the air, up in the sky on their respective brooms.</p><p>Atsumu watched as Tobio counted the marshmallows floating in his mug, a picture of pure innocence and he wanted to ruffle his hair all over again. But he didn’t, letting the younger boy enjoy his drink.</p><p>“Why do you always agree to play quidditch with me?” Tobio asked out of the blue, not even looking up, completely unaware that he had asked a question that made Atsumu’s insides quiver.</p><p>“What?” Atsumu said dumbly.</p><p>Tobio stopped, placing down his drink and staring at Atsumu, eyes filled with genuine curiosity for an answer that Atsumu wasn’t even sure he possessed, “Last year you suggested that we play together whenever we can. Why?”</p><p>Memories of late nights and sneaking out of training camp to play quidditch in the middle of the night returned to him, that same unidentified something—sweet, kind, <em>nice</em>, the something that had been growing in his chest like it was a wild garden, roots curling around every valve of his heart—nagging at his every nerve as Tobio watched on, expecting something. So Atsumu just smiled.</p><p>“Cause we’re friends, Tobio-kun.” There was a sweetness he didn’t recognise pouring out of his words, melting into the hot drink before him. It was scary almost, how dry his throat was, how honeyed his voice sounded, how breakable Tobio made him feel.</p><p>The wobbly smile on Tobio’s face did not go amiss, those cerulean eyes still acting as a window to his soul, bright and full of surprise—like that was something he hadn’t heard before.</p><p>And when Atsumu worded that sentiment, Tobio looked at him like he was stating the obvious.</p><p>“I haven’t.” He shrugged, “Like I told you, people don’t exactly like me. I’ve never had friends outside of the quidditch team and even then, I’ve only known them for a year other than Hinata. I only know Yachi and Yamaguchi thanks to Hinata. I’m not exactly the type of guy people want to hang out with.”</p><p>There was something so sad about hearing those words from Tobio. Tobio who devoted himself to quidditch like nothing else mattered. Tobio who was polite and considerate, not the brash and curt boy everyone painted him out to be. Tobio who was so easily flustered, so easily befriended, so easily won over. Tobio who let Atsumu in with no reservation, because Kageyama Tobio was made of everything good, everything sweet, like the marshmallows and hot chocolate he looked so happy to be drinking.</p><p>Atsumu saw a piece of himself in Tobio—a boy who strived for the top, left being the type of person everyone would avoid. Though things like that never bothered him, they clearly bothered Tobio, because he was gentle and fragile. Atsumu hoped his hands could be trusted to handle the younger boy without breaking him.</p><p>“But ya’ are, Tobio.” Atsumu was speaking before he even figured out what he was saying, “You’re the kind of guy I wanna hang out with, you’re the type of guy I wanna be friends with. Yer already my friend.”</p><p>And the shy little smile he got in return made his heart soar; he kept that image in his mind, hoping to brand it in his soul, because Tobio always deserved to look that happy.</p><p>(A little part of him repeated Osamu’s words from the other day, echoing in his brain that very night, but he buried them six feet under the ground. Tobio was his friend, that’s what they were—<em>friends</em>).</p><p>And for Tobio, that day, in that moment, Miya became Atsumu, more than just a fellow beater, more than just a boy that challenged him at every turn, more than just a boy that teased; he was a boy that comforted him, a boy that chose to stay with him, a boy that gave him soft smiles and spoke to him about anything and everything. He was a friend.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Do you think I should ask Oikawa-san?”</p><p>Their dining table went quiet, previous boisterous conversations about Kenma, who Hinata had asked to the ball—rather embarrassingly—and Kanoka, who had asked Yachi during a private study session, dissipating into heavy taciturnity.</p><p>“To the Yule Ball?” Noya was the first to speak, tentative in his approach, despite how loud he could usually be.</p><p>Tobio simply nodded, prodding at his dinner with his fork.</p><p>Yachi’s hand settled on his shoulder, “Are you sure, Kageyama-kun?”</p><p>Tobio frowned. Why not ask? Everything seemed to be doing well for everyone else, so why not him? Maybe asking him would clarify to Oikawa that he doesn’t see him as an enemy, more as a symbol of everything he wanted to be. Maybe this was what they needed; Tobio pushing through the arrows raining from the sky at Oikawa’s command, always trying to strike him down.</p><p>“Yeah...I can’t think of anyone else I’d ever even consider asking.”</p><p>Tanaka then looked up, flashing him a grin, “Well then. Go ask that pretty boy, and if he says no I’ll fight him for you.”</p><p>“Me too Kageyama!” Noya exclaimed, the two of them striking matching poses, flexing their arms, collecting laughs from everyone else.</p><p>The topic was dropped and Tobio’s mind was made up, when Hinata turned to him, “Don’t think too hard about it all Kageyama. If he says yes, it’ll be great but…”</p><p>“But what dumbass?” Tobio just sighed, drinking the milk from his goblet, “I’m used to him rejecting me. If he says no to this, well, nothing will have changed.”</p><p>Hinata didn’t say anything to that, and a part of Tobio felt like he’d said something that didn’t sit right with him, but he chose to stay quiet. If it was that big of a problem, surely someone would have said something?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Osamu had accused Atsumu of all sorts of crazy things throughout their lives.</p><p>He often called him a liar and accused him of stealing his puddings—which, by the way, was completely false and Atsumu will stand by that statement until he has both feet in the grave. He also claimed that Atsumu stole his clothes and never returned them, but Atsumu liked to think of it as extended borrowing, because what’s the point of having a twin if you can’t share clothes? In Atsumu’s eyes, Osamu was selfish for hoarding all his things away.</p><p>When they were seven, Osamu swore that Atsumu broke their Ma’s favourite vase, and on countless occasions, he claimed Atsumu smacked him when no one was looking, going as far as to cry so hard his face mottled crimson, just so their parents would scold Atsumu while he watched from the sidelines, smugness creeping onto that usually lax face of his. That was clearly younger twin privilege, because Atsumu would never be able to get away with something as blatantly fake as that.</p><p>But <em>that</em>—</p><p>
  <em>“Yer into Tobio-kun, ain’tcha?”</em>
</p><p>That was by far the most heinous thing Osamu had ever accused him of; Atsumu was almost surprised at the utter audacity of it. <em>Almost</em>, because he was aware of how much of a dickhead his twin could be at times. Times like this, as he stared down Atsumu with Suna at his side, the two of them howling with laughter, like a pair of fucking heyenas.</p><p>Atsumu rolled his eyes, stabbing his fork into his food with a huff, “What’s so fuckin’ funny ya’ jerks? I only asked a simple question.”</p><p>“Yeah. But yer question was ‘do ya’ think Tobio-kun has a date to the ball’,” Osamu snorted, the repetition of Atsumu’s words making Suna break down again, shoulders shaking with a force way too immense to be healthy.</p><p>Was he even able to breathe?</p><p>Osamu shook his head, “How can ya’ ask somethin’ like that ‘n expect us not to think that your head over heels for him?”</p><p>“Us?” Atsumu stiffened, eyes bulging like a warning to his brother of what was going to happen if he did what he thought he did, “Didja tell other people your dumbass theory?”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid, <em>Miya</em>,” Sakusa Kiyoomi’s voice spat his name like it was poison on his tongue, finally staring up from his game of Wizard’s Chess, rolling his eyes so hard that Atsumu was afraid they might get stuck in the back of his skull, “If you’re going to discuss matters like that out loud where everyone can hear, your brother doesn’t have to have told anyone.”</p><p>Sakusa’s blunt words dragged across Atsumu’s mind like nails on a blackboard and he scowled, flipping off the Ravenclaw with no shred of dignity, nor any witty comebacks to refute with, “Who asked ya’ to get involved, Omi-kun?”</p><p>Sakusa rolled his eyes again and this time Atsumu found himself <em>begging</em> for his face to get stuck like that—out of nothing but pure spite.</p><p>“So, are you gonna ask him?” Suna cut in, finally able to get some oxygen down his airways, “Or are you gonna keep acting like a pussy?”</p><p>“I ain’t said I was gonna ask him!” Atsumu screeched, lifting his hands suddenly, sending Sakusa’s board flying, the pieces now scattered across the table and floor. He winced at the impact and then gave a sheepish smile to a very pissed off Kiyoomi, “Whoops?”</p><p>“Miya you fucking clown, what is wrong with you?” The Ravenclaw’s eyebrows were raised high on his forehead, face creased in places that it should be impossible to emote.</p><p>Komori gave Atsumu a pitiful look, “Lets all calm down now.”</p><p>Not one to read the mood, or to ever shut his mouth, Atsumu just stared up at him, the faintest grin on his face, “C’mon Omi-kun, if ya’ keep frownin’ like that yer face’ll get wrinkly ‘fore yer—”</p><p>Atsumu’s voice cut off into a startled yelp as Sakusa grabbed him by the collar of his robe, gloved fingers shaking him as Suna cackled, gleefully watching the shitshow before him. Atsumu also didn’t look like he would get any help from Osamu, who just continued eating and conversing with Komori as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening around them.</p><p>“Is there nothing in that thick skull of yours? Did no one ever tell you when to shut the fuck up, you loud-mouthed bastard?”</p><p>“M’sorry Omi! Jus’ lemme—” Atsumu’s nostrils twitched at the sudden overpowering scent filling them, somehow managing to distract from something as terrifying as Sakusa Kiyoomi threatening his life.</p><p>What the fuck was that scent? Something woody and damp, like the quidditch pitch on rainy days when Atsumu would be the last one left in practice, zipping across the sky on his broom, just feeling the wind in his hair and the freedom of being so far from the ground. And there was also a hint of...<em>tuna</em>? <em>What</em>? Tuna and spices and warmth. The sorts of odors that would waft from the kitchen back at home, when his mother would cook for the three of them on weekends in the summer. The very thought of it made his stomach pool with homesickness, and hunger. Lots of hunger.</p><p>He noted that Sakusa was no longer shaking him, also transfixed by the smells in the air.</p><p>“Is that…” Osamu sniffed for good measure, head tilted up, “Onigiri?”</p><p>“What?” Atsumu was the first to counter, “Is yer brain always thinkin’ of bloody onigiri ‘Samu you pig.”</p><p>“Shut yer trap!”</p><p>“It smells like Ma’s cookin’ ya’ dumbass!” Atsumu took another sharp inhale, nose suddenly tingling with the aroma of something sweet and warm. Like a fireplace and mild sugariness, overpowered by the distinct smell of hot liquids, “And...hot chocolate?” The words came out hushed, and more like a question than a statement.</p><p>At the mention of hot chocolate, Suna raised an eyebrow up at him, clearly amused by something that Atsumu was yet again not aware of. He was about to ask, but Osamu’s voice cut him off, catching everyone’s attention.</p><p>“Omi-kun what’s in yer drink?” Osamu stared at the table where a cup had been upturned, most likely due to Atsumu’s earlier incident, spilling whatever Sakusa was about to drink.</p><p>“What? I don’t know?” Sakusa paused, gritting his teeth in thought, “It smells like wet grass and cleaning products? It's supposed to be plain water.”</p><p>Atsumu chuckled, “Clearly, someone wants ta’ poison ya’. Can’t blame ‘em.”</p><p>That earned him yet another glare from the Ravenclaw chaser.</p><p>“It’s amortentia.” Suna helpfully provided, looking entirely bored of this situation, shoulders slumped as he pulled out his wand, “Clearly someone wanted to get Sakusa here to take them to the Yule Ball, but didn’t have the guts to ask in person. Bet it was someone from one of the other schools.”</p><p>With a swish of his wrist and a mumble of a spell, Suna cleared the spill, as Sakusa huffed, casting his own spell to get his chessboard and pieces all put away.</p><p>Atsumu scoffed, always happy to wind Sakusa up, “Wonder who would ever want to go with <em>you</em>.”</p><p>Sakusa glared, turning his nose up at the Slytherin beater, “Unlike you, Miya, I’m not being a wuss and I’ve already got a date to the ball. So keep your ugly mouth shut.”</p><p>“Hold on hold on hold on,” Atsumu raised his arms to his chest, an incredulous look on his face, “Who in their right fuckin’ mind actually agreed to go to the Yule Ball with you?”</p><p>“One more person than the amount of people going with you.” Sakusa huffed, marching off, with Komori trailing behind him, leaving an insulted Atsumu left at the mercy of his asshole brother and his asshole brother’s somehow-more-of-an-asshole friend, who merely cackled at the insult.</p><p>Suna wiped his hands against his robes, using the tip of his wand to point out a Gryffindor table where Kageyama sat alone, writing away in a book, “You know, Sakusa’s not wrong. You <em>are</em> a huge wuss.”</p><p>“I ain’t never even said I wanted to go with him!”</p><p>“Yeah, but Atsumu. Since when did hot chocolate start being one of your favourite things in the world?” Suna rolled his eyes when Atsumu gave him a dumbfounded look, “Amortentia makes you smell the things you love; is Kageyama Tobio perhaps something you <em>looooooove</em>?”</p><p>Atsumu hated—absolutely <em>despised</em>—the way Suna practically sang the word love. “Maybe I just fuckin’ <em>looooooooove</em> hot chocolate, asshole.”</p><p>“Well, ya’ didn’t love hot chocolate in our fourth year when Yukie from Ravenclaw slipped some love potion in yer drink.” Osamu smirked, very pleased by the way his twin just kept snapping his mouth open and shut without any counter-argument. “Plus, didn’tcha have hot chocolate with Tobio-kun on yer pseudo-date, a couple of months ago?”</p><p>“It wasn’t a date ‘Samu!”</p><p>“That’s why I said <em>pseudo</em> you shit-for-brains-pig!” A swift kick jabbed Atsumu in the side and his every attempt to get Osamu back was met with more of a beating from his jerk of a younger brother.</p><p>“Y'know what,” Atsumu stood up abruptly, slamming his hands against the table, “M’gonna go over there ‘n have a nice, normal conversation and then y’all can see that I ain’t got nothin’ but friendly feelings towards him.”</p><p>“Cool plan, jackass. Have fun.”</p><p>Atsumu flipped off his twin as he headed towards Tobio, straightening his uniform so he at least looked presentable in front of the younger boy. And no, that had absolutely nothing to do with wanting Tobio to think he looked nice. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.</p><p>He slid his legs over the bench, skillfully stealing the textbook in between Tobio’s hands, leaving the younger boy shocked—plump lips screwed up into that pouting frown and cerulean eyes half-masked by his long lashes.</p><p>“Sup Tobio-kun,” Atsumu settled the book down to the side, “Whatcha up to?”</p><p>Tobio sunk onto the table, settling his head down, one of his cheeks squishing upon contact, making it seem like a poofed-up dumpling.</p><p>“Trying to study, but I just can’t do it Miya-san.”</p><p>“Oi. What’d I say about ‘Miya-san’?” Atsumu narrowed his gaze, trying his best to look peeved but really, what kind of monster could achieve an angry look when Tobio looked so precious?</p><p>Tobio didn’t reply, sulking over his open textbook as he placed his quill back in its pot of ink. Atsumu couldn’t help but sigh.</p><p>“How ‘bout ya’ take a break ‘n talk with me to get your mind off studying?” He reached over, ruffling Tobio’s hair, raven strands like silk between his fingertips. He ignored the look Osamu was shooting at him from the Slytherin bench behind Tobio’s head. Fuck him and his stupid smug face; Atsumu was not crushing on Tobio. He was just asking him about the Yule Ball, which was a totally <em>friendly</em> thing to do, “Ya’ got a date to the ball?”</p><p>He didn’t know why his insides were screaming ‘say no’ like his life depended on it, the phrase etching itself into the bones of his ribs like ancient runes, like any other answer was a forbidden spell.</p><p>“I do not.” Tobio shifted so he was leaning on his elbows, gaze locked onto the table, causing the initial spark of victory Atsumu felt to fizzle into the base of his stomach, as if something was about to punch him in his stomach. “But I’ve got someone I want to ask.”</p><p>There it was—the gut punch. It felt more like someone just cast a nasty spell on him; the sinking of his chest almost causing his smile to fall downwards with it. Somehow he managed to power against the pull of gravity, forcing his face to stay bright.</p><p>“Course ya’ do. With all these new folk buzzin’ ‘round the castle, bet one of ‘em musta caught your eye.” He paused, a jesting tone slipping into his voice, “M’sure y’could trick ‘em into believing ya’ have the capability of bein’ a good date.”</p><p>Tobio frowned because that was a Kageyama Tobio type of thing to do, and Atsumu remained unsure if he could muster other expressions.</p><p>“Do you think I would be a bad date?” Tobio’s voice was hushed, evident in its self consciousness.</p><p>That was enough to fill Atsumu’s head with all sorts of scenarios of dates with Tobio, his mind a sunken ship amongst all these thoughts filling him up like the ocean. His every neurone was fixated on Tobio, and how he would somehow manage to upset a waitress with how blunt he was, or make a kid cry with his glare, or accidentally ruin another couples day with his lack of social awareness. How his cheeks would flush red at every compliment, and his eyes would sparkle, and his pout would give way to innocent questions, and his hands, slender and well looked after, how they would clutch onto Atsumu’s arm, and how cute Tobio would be throughout all of it, draped in Atsumu’s jacket that would most definitely be to big for him. And how, at the end of the date, Atsumu would walk him back to Gryffindor Tower, and—</p><p>Holy shit, when did his thoughts become solely about taking Tobio out on a date?</p><p>Fuck. Cute? Really? Okay, maybe Atsumu thought Tobio was cute beyond belief and yes, <em>maybe</em>, his brain went on a tangent over how adorable, albeit disastrous, dates with him could be, but that didn’t confirm anything. That didn’t mean Osamu was right in the slightest.</p><p>“Miya-san…?”</p><p>“What?” Atsumu tried to play off his zoning out, leaning against his palm, “I was pullin’ yer leg. M’sure if ya’ act like your polite, cute little self, anyone would say yes.”</p><p>Tobio’s mouth crinkled into a little smile and that made Atsumu’s heart soar, and he tried to ignore the little part of him that was screaming that they should say no, that Tobio’s date shouldn't go fine. He really wanted Tobio to have a good night, because that is what a good friend would want, even if it wasn’t with him.</p><p>Shit. Did he really just think that? This was all ‘Samu’s fault. He was going to cast a curse on that jackass. Maybe a full body bind so the pig couldn’t open his big mouth ever again.</p><p>“Sooooo, who’s the lucky one that caught yer eye?” Atsumu did his best to tease as he usually would, though it came pretty naturally. Tobio was just so fun to rile up, “Is she from Beauxbatons? Those girls are real gorgeous.”</p><p>Tobio shrugged, “They’re pretty, I guess.”</p><p>“I guess?” He asked gently, unsure if this was territory he shouldn’t be stepping on. Maybe it was from the way Tobio’s shoulders rose a few centimetres, a little tenser than before, “Well if they don’t meet yer taste, there’s plenty of hot guys from Durmstrang thatcha could be goin’ with.”</p><p>Tobio just smiled meekly, not quite as stiff as before and Atsumu let out a silent sigh of relief. He didn’t want to make Tobio uncomfortable. Ever. All he really wanted was to be there for Tobio whenever he needed someone.</p><p>“The person I’m asking isn’t from another school.”</p><p>Fucking hell.</p><p>It felt like a bunch of bricks just came barrelling down on Atsumu’s consciousness—another few gut punches in a row, strong enough to break through his lower ribs. Someone from Hogwarts was going to the ball with Tobio, someone who wouldn’t go away at the end of the year, someone who—if this went well, and Merlin forbid anything as ghastly as that happening—could feasibly maintain a real relationship with Tobio. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth; like vomit flavoured Every Flavour Beans.</p><p>“Well then, they can’t be all that great. I mean,” Atsumu tried to recover quickly, faltering back into his carefree facade and gesturing at himself expressively, “There ain’t no one in this damn school who could be better than me.”</p><p>But Tobio, blunt and sincere as ever, didn’t fail to crush the notion of that, “It’s Oikawa-san.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Atsumu’s smile crumbled before he could even register the change in his face, muscles straining to uphold a passive expression, but giving in under the pressure of Tobio’s words. Oikawa. Interesting. A knot tightened in his stomach. No, not interesting: <em>painful</em>. An acrid burning sensation was clawing its way up his throat, leaving a charred chest behind. He dug his nails into his palms, trying to force his mind away from the sickly feeling swishing in his gut.</p><p>Oikawa Tooru. Fuckin’ hell.</p><p>“Tooru-kun, huh? Bet yer real excited ta’ ask him.” Atsumu gritted his teeth, forcing a smile. Tobio didn’t notice the difference, luckily, thanks to his social ineptitude.</p><p>“I don’t know. I guess so.” Tobio just shrugged, opting to look indifferent, but the blush lining his cheeks told a story that Atsumu really didn’t want to see.</p><p>It was weird; why was it so weird? Why was seeing Tobio want Tooru so...so hurtful? It felt like a thousand needles had been delicately pricked into his skin, inching ever so deeper by the second, always a centimetre away from tearing his muscle fibres, his tendons, his ligaments, every little string that made up his worthless body—his worthless body, that was not enough for Tobio.</p><p>“It’s weird. I’ve been chasing after him since my first year, but for the first time I feel like I may catch up? I don’t even know if that makes sense.” The Gryffindor beater frowned, all wobbly and delicate, so easily breakable that Atsumu didn’t even have the heart to try to convince him otherwise. “Hinata just says to not think too hard and go for it.”</p><p><em>Seriously Shouyou-kun?</em> Atsumu whinged to himself. <em>How couldja do this to me?</em></p><p>He let out a grunt of acknowledgement, not all that thrilled to talk about Tooru, with his condescending tone and passive aggressive attitude. He was always entertaining in a quidditch match, with a sharp tongue that could rival Atsumu’s own insults—Atsumu often enjoyed their games—but the way he looked at Tobio, like he was something despicable, something to throw away and not cherish, something to crush in between his fingers like he was worthless, it made him feel sick.</p><p>Tobio deserved to be appreciated, to be praised, to be held like the most precious artefact in the world.</p><p>A voice that sounded suspiciously like Osamu’s rung in his head, telling him just how sappy he sounded. Fuck. That asshole was in his head now. He was <em>definitely</em> getting him to eat slugs later.</p><p>“I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it if he turns me down though...” Tobio sighed, the words all too vulnerable and hushed on his tongue. It made Atsumu’s heart ache—dull and agonising, like a blunt knife dragging around the delicate chambers of his heart, plucking on heartstrings that should never be touched. Not at that moment in time, not by a boy who quite clearly didn’t want him.</p><p>Atsumu tilted Tobio’s head up by the chin, an amount of tenderness in the gesture that he was unaware that he possessed. It was odd really, how pliant Tobio made him, how docile—like he were nothing more than a knight, here to guard a little prince’s heart, sworn by all things sacred to keep him smiling.</p><p>“Honestly Tobio-kun,” Atsumu spoke his name with so much caution, like if he said it too loudly, the boy may cease to exist; he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the pensive fondness in his voice, like he was about to lose something all too precious, “He would be a fool to turn ya’ down. Anyone would be.”</p><p>There was a gleam in Tobio’s eyes before he looked away, and Atsumu would cherish that expression for all time.</p><p>“What about you Miya-san? Who are you going with?”</p><p>Oh. Atsumu swallowed down the question that had been sitting on his tongue— <em>“do ya wanna go together, y’know as friends of course?”</em> —it tasted stale and sour. Like the unrefrigerated mead that Osamu and him had drunk as a dare. That ended up with them in the infirmary for a whole day.</p><p>“I dunno.” He shrugged, “I don’t think I’ll have any problems gettin’ a date. Maybe I’ll go foreign and get with a Beauxbatons girl or a Durmstrang dude. I thought I saw a few that caught my eye.”</p><p>A lie.</p><p>Atsumu hadn’t met anyone who occupied his mind like Tobio. But it wasn’t what Osamu thought it was; it couldn’t be. Tobio was chasing after Oikawa and Atsumu didn’t want to be the pathetic guy who would get left in the dust with shards of his shattered heart. No. Tobio was a rival, a <em>friend</em>, nothing more; nothing less.</p><p>Nothing more; nothing less.</p><p>Now if only his heart got the memo.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The Yule Ball came earlier than expected.</p><p>Archways of ice and snow curved towards the ceiling of the Great Hall, crystal glaciers from under which swathes of dressed-up students twirled and pranced, enchanted by their perfect night. Tobio counted tumbling snowflakes, each one unique and secluded, creating untraceable designs. He followed its trail, spying Yachi in Kanoka's arms, glowing under the pale light. The golden layers of her dress shimmering as she smiled, light and cheerful—chromas that suited her face like nothing else.</p><p>Kenma's long locks came into view, tied up at the back, roots untouched as pale blond streaks intruded upon a brunette backdrop. And then there was Hinata, with the sort of look in his eyes that only quidditch used to bring out—the bronze amalgams aglow with a radiance that Tobio had seen before. At times like when he slammed a quaffle past some of the best keepers in Hogwarts, when he weaved through defences before other teams could even register him moving, when he raised the team's spirit by improving at rates impossible for anyone else.</p><p>It seemed like they were having a good time, drinking punch as they chatted away, Hinata beaming as Kenma laughed. Tobio didn't think he had ever seen Kenma look like that; he wasn't even sure if he would be able to. Ah. Maybe he should never tell him that; Hinata did say it was weird when Tobio had been shocked that Kenma was capable of running.</p><p>He was glad at least they were having a good time.</p><p>Tobio, on the other hand...</p><p>Tanaka and Kiyoko spun past, nestled in each other's arms—a sight no one really thought they would ever see. As soon as their figures cleared Tobio's eye line, it felt like the world stopped, the lights suddenly all too intense, and his pupils dilated to try and take in the star that was Oikawa Tooru.</p><p>He looked like starlight, illuminated with everything that Tobio had ever desired since he had stepped into this school five years ago. Oikawa never stopped looking gorgeous; coffee-coloured hair slicked-back, calling Tobio to his side. A well-fitted suit draped over his body, ivory against his tanned skin. He was a celestial being, and Tobio felt the urge to reach out and touch, his reckless heart ached for him. Longing was strange, cruel almost. All these years had passed, and Tobio thought that maybe, just maybe, the pain would lessen, the craving would subside. But every time Oikawa strolled into a room, all that he had hoped would wane, broke through the restraints of his ribs.</p><p>And Tobio was nothing but a child, staring up at a boy who was always one too many steps ahead.</p><p>It felt like his eyes were made to gaze upon Oikawa's back, his tongue to ask for him in his every prayer, his skin, kindling for Oikawa's sweetened contempt. And then he was being watched by brown eyes that held an unattainable warmth—one not made for Tobio.</p><p>A simper created from counterfeit cordiality struck him in the chest, clogging up his arteries, a lump forming to block his beating chambers, created of rejection and the torture of being unwanted. Six words branded themselves inside the tissue that formed his heart; <em>I would never go with you</em>. And then his name, his name spat out like it was poison on Oikawa’s tongue. <em>Tobio-chan</em>. A mere infant stumbling around, trying to play a game he would never understand—someone who would never be enough for Oikawa.</p><p>Tobio saw a boy from Beauxbatons beside the Ravenclaw beater. The sight made his chest go numb, something inside there shattering. Something irreparable. It felt like his every organ was screaming Oikawa’s name, desperate for his presence, for his love. But his heart didn’t stir; his heart had felt this before, and now it kept beating as the rest of him fell apart.</p><p>He was glad that his friends were all having fun with people they liked. Maybe it was better that he was alone, seated at this table, wishing he was anywhere but here.</p><p>And if his vision began to blur, bleary lights meshing together through a watery line of sight, a bitter loneliness running through his veins, then no one had to know.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Atsumu watched with his jaw hanging, completely and utterly dumbfounded as he saw Sakusa fucking Kiyoomi dancing away with Ushijima Wakatoshi like he was a precious little flower that might wilt if not with him. What the fuck? Was Ushiwaka crazy? Taking Omi to the ball like that. He scoffed, he didn’t know how the hell their captain managed it.</p><p>And that wasn’t the only surprise of the evening, Aran and Kita had showed up together leaving him and Osamu to gawk at them like they’d seen a bloody ghost. Metaphorically of course. They saw plenty of ghosts in Hogwarts anyway.</p><p>Atsumu saw all sorts of people as the night went on, even watched as his brother, his own flesh and blood, his twin who had the exact same face as him and entered the earth with him, had the audacity to stalk off with Sunarin, not even having the decency to let Atsumu know that they had chosen go to the ball together. He felt betrayed quite frankly.</p><p>But the energy required to be overly dramatic about it was lost from him, torn out by himself, damaged by his overthinking and what Osamu called denial. But Atsumu wasn’t in denial: he didn’t like Tobio. Not like that. They were friends and that territory was where it was safe, comfortable for the both of them to reside without sacrificing something as precious as the heart. Of course Tobio’s was already gone, handed over to someone who tossed it around with no care. So it would have to be Atsumu whose heart would beat for the two of them, and he didn’t know if it could sustain itself that way.</p><p>So he stayed safe. Kageyama Tobio was labeled his friend; a friend he doted on. And Atsumu, was not in denial.</p><p>Although, when he ran this sentiment to ‘Samu, he was simply answered with a slam to the back of the head and another hundred teasing nicknames about how he was in love.</p><p>But if it was love, why did he feel this way?</p><p>Standing alone in a relatively secluded corner of the hall, Atsumu watched the ticking grand clock, its arms dipping into the later hours of the night. People were still dancing, less fancy-like by now, head bumping and yelling along to the lyrics of some wizard band he didn’t recognise.</p><p>He could see Kita and Aran, and Suna and Osamu, hell he even spied Tobio’s friends, like Shouyou and that shy blonde girl—Yacchan? Was it? That was what Bokuto called her anyway. But he couldn’t see Tobio anywhere. Maybe that was for the best.</p><p>Tobio was probably off having the time of his life, with Tooru no less. And he couldn’t help but wonder, did Tooru appreciate the way Tobio’s mouth pinched into a pout? Did Tooru savour every glance Tobio shot him? Did Tooru notice the different shades of blue in Tobio’s eyes, each one an emotion filled with honesty? Did Tooru love the crinkle in Tobio’s brows? Would Tooru kiss it away? Would Tooru do half the things Atsumu found a part of himself wanting to?</p><p>Would <em>Tooru</em> give up his heart to fill Tobio’s vacant, bleeding chest?</p><p>“Tsumu, why’re ya’ sulkin’ over here alone?” Osamu leaned next to him. His breath smelled sweet, and his words were slightly slurred, teetering around his mouth like it was a tightrope.</p><p>“Yer tipsy, Samu.” He sighed, not really in the mood to deal with his brother. Osamu was a loud drunk, one that lost all the restrictions he put on himself, and in a normal situation, Atsumu would enjoy watching how his brother exposed just how much of a jerk he was to everyone else and not just his poor, suffering twin.</p><p>But right now? Right now, he wanted peace.</p><p>Osamu chuckled and Atsumu knew that he would not be getting any peace at all.</p><p>“God. Don’t say that like yer Ma’.” He snorted, “Got some firewhisky off the seventh years—what’s their names? Noya? Kuroo? Whatever.” Then his face fell, serious, “Don’t tell Kita.”</p><p>Atsumu couldn’t help but laugh, god what an idiot. He stuck a tongue out at his younger brother, “Fuck that. M’gonna tell him first chance I get.”</p><p>“Oi. Don’t be an ass ‘Tsumu.” A kick to Atsumu’s shin really drove the point home, but Atsumu wondered who was being the ass in this situation. Him? Or his jerkwad brother who wouldn’t leave him alone? The latter seemed more correct to him.</p><p>Osamu lifted up a bottle, handing it to Atsumu, “Boughtcha some. Since yer being a bloody wuss and standin’ here alone like ya’ need attention or you’ll start sobbin’.”</p><p>Atsumu had half a mind to punch him. But he didn’t. He didn’t because that would <em>really</em> get him in trouble and one of the prefects just walked by. Luckily, they didn’t notice the bottle in his hand.</p><p>“‘Samu you better scram ‘fore I kick yer ass.” He hissed, trying to hand the drink back, “M’not in the mood.”</p><p>“But yer in the mood for sulking?” Osamu bit back, not budging a single bit. “I get it <em>Romeo</em>, love is sufferin’ ‘n all that bullshit. But who the hell are ya’ ‘n what’d ya do to my brother? The real Atsumu wouldn’t lose to some prissy fuck like Oikawa Tooru.”</p><p>Atsumu couldn’t help the the little chortle that escaped him at his brother's way with words, “Beautifully said, ‘Samu. Y’should write a book or somethin’.” He pushed himself off the wall, about to leave when Osamu kicked him again.</p><p>That was it. He turned back around ready to punch Osamu but he was cut off swiftly.</p><p>“What the fuck is yer problem ‘Tsumu? Yer really givin’ up?”</p><p>“Giving up what Osamu? What am I losing to Tooru-kun?” He seethed, biting down the yell he really wanted to utilise, “‘Cause last I checked Tobio-kun weren’t mine. Last I checked we weren’t nothin’ but mates. Last I checked I ain’t even wanted nothin’ more than that.”</p><p>He didn’t realise how blurred his vision had gotten until he blinked, heavy teardrops dropping from his eyelashes and streaking his face in noxious emotions. A shaky breath escaped him as he backed away a little.</p><p>Osamu looked sombre, frowning hard, “Ya’ like ‘im that bad?”</p><p>And Atsumu didn’t have the words. Didn’t have a new excuse. Oh god. He felt like he was filled with something foriegn and his body was trying to reject it. But he knew that it was already a part of him, already etched into his every bone, already rushing through his veins, already in his lungs, allowing him to breathe.</p><p>He liked Tobio. God, he liked him so much that it felt like he was breaking apart.</p><p>He swallowed hard, pushing back his bangs, breathless. “I like him. Fuck. I really do.” The words felt like they had been waiting to be spoken for a very long time, finally escaping chains Atsumu had locked on his tongue of his own volition.</p><p>Osamu wasn’t mean about it. He just pressed the firewhisky back into Atsumu’s hand, “Have a swig ‘n go confess. You’ll need the courage, cuz yer a wuss.”</p><p>“Shut yer trap.” He said it but there was no angry edge to his words, “M’not tellin’ him.”</p><p>“God. Why? Why’s there always drama with ya?”</p><p>“It ain’t <em>drama</em>, ‘Samu you pig.” The bark of annoyance died as abruptly as it had flared, with Atsumu choosing to stare at the bottle of Odegen’s Old Firewhisky, watching as the label tore away with ease. “Tobio ain’t mine ta’ win. He’s his own person and he wants someone who ain’t me. To him...we ain’t no more than friends.” His chest felt tight, tautening with every word he spoke.</p><p>Osamu stared at him vacantly and then sighed, patting his shoulder, “Don’t keep this shit bottled up. Look at ya’ ‘Tsumu. Yer already so bummed out...if yer such good friends, Tobio wouldn’t jus’ throw ya’ away for likin’ him.”</p><p>Atsumu tried to protest but Osamu just rolled his eyes and repeated himself, before spotting Suna in the crowd and running off as if he hadn’t left his brother mid-crisis. A crisis that he unearthed. Fuck Osamu. Atsumu would definitely try out the next spell he learned on him.</p><p>Biting his lower lip, he stared at the bottle and then at Oikawa Tooru, who just stepped out of the cluster of a crowd dancing at the foot of the stage. He assumed Tobio wouldn’t be far, so he began gathering the pros and cons and then proceeded to dump them out the window of his brain. Atsumu never really thought out big decisions, and he knocked back a big sip of the drink, feeling the back of his throat scorch at first touch as something akin to courage sparked up his spine, following the path of the firewhisky.</p><p>Numbness and nervousness discarded, he left the drink on a table, having drank nowhere near enough to even get tipsy, but just enough to have the unique effect of bravery only firewhisky would create, running through his veins. And then, he made his way over to Tooru with a single mission in mind.</p><p>“Tsum-chan,” Oikawa cooed as Atsumu approached him, the edges of his lips falling into that thin smile he kept reserved for rivals, “Looking for something?”</p><p>“Tobio-kun.” He answered curtly, “M’lookin’ for Tobio-kun. S’posed to be with ya, ain’t he?”</p><p>Tooru hummed, a little mischief crackling in the hazel of his eyes, too full of knowing for Atsumu’s taste, “Why are you looking for Tobio-chan? Do you need something from him?”</p><p>“Why’d you care?” Atsumu’s patience was thin and his heart thumping, would Tooru ever give anyone a straight answer?</p><p>“He’s my underclassman. Don’t want him getting mixed up in something...unfavourable.”</p><p>Atsumu’s eyebrow ticked, but Tooru just laughed.</p><p>“I’m kidding Tsum-chan. You’re so on edge today.” He smirked, that sickly sweet sort of look that got Atsumu’s insides all riled up, the one he shot during a match when Sakusa scored over Ushijima thanks to a miss hit from Atsumu. God. He hated that look.</p><p>“D’ya know where he is or not?”</p><p>“Nope!” He snuck a glance past Atsumu, half a grimace falling over his face, though it was swept under the carpet at inhuman speeds. “Why would I know at all?”</p><p>“Ain’t he here with ya?” Atsumu frowned.</p><p>Tooru just laughed. It was cruel even to Atsumu’s ears. The older setter pulled over a pretty boy from Beauxbatons, one Atsumu had not acquainted himself with and just shook his head, linking their hands as he moved to leave, just as Iwaizumi reached them.</p><p>“Oikawa—” He stopped, staring once at Atsumu and then at Oikawa’s date, offering the both of them a polite nod, “Atsumu. Jean. Oikawa, I wanted to talk.”</p><p>Tooru huffed out a laugh, but Atsumu thought it was a little shakier than his previous ones, “Sorry Iwa-chan. Jean and I were about to go dance, weren’t we?”</p><p>The boy nodded, glad to pull Tooru away.</p><p>As he retreated, Tooru looked back, pointing over at the door, “By the way! There’s Tobio-chan!”</p><p>Atsumu whipped his head around so fast he might’ve given himself whiplash. Even still, it was worth it, because he finally caught sight of Tobio, as he rushed out the doors of the Great Hall.</p><p>He knew what he had to do.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tobio’s head was spinning a few hours into the Yule Ball, his breath weezy, refusing to settle.</p><p>He felt as though he was underwater, lungs burning with the sting of pelagic wanting. Yearning coating his tongue with a taste as terrible as a mouthful of wet sand, as Oikawa smiled and laughed and lived—just not with him. Not with a boy left alone on a beach with no one around for miles, nothing but the cruel ocean, stretching out towards a horizon he couldn’t reach.</p><p>Tobio couldn’t take it; he couldn’t breathe in here.</p><p>He needed to get out. He needed to be his own float, his own lifeguard. No magic could do it for him, so he lifted his heavy feet, rushing out in the hopes that the air outside the Great Hall didn’t despise him as much as the heavy atmosphere in here seemed to.</p><p>He hurried with no intention of stopping until the call of his name—<em>of Tobio-kun</em>—formed a wall, blocking off the path he wished to take.</p><p>Tobio turned, and there he was—Miya Atsumu, staring at him like the world had just ended.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tobio bowed his head down, shoulders shaking and Atsumu swore he heard the strings of his heart snap with every muffled cry.</p><p>Who did this? What monster could even think to make Tobio cry? Who could be so fucking heartless? Because Atsumu had some words for them, words that were less so words and more so curses, less so curses and more so punches. He’d take them on, muggle style, and leave them with a pretty souvenir of the time they fucked up and hurt his Tobio-kun.</p><p>His legs felt heavy, but they were moving of their own accord, carrying him so he stood in front of Tobio, hands taking his tear-stained face into their grip, thumbs working diligently to wipe away those accursed tears that dared to blemish his cheeks.</p><p>“Tobio...tell me what happened.”</p><p>There it was again, that gentle voice, that softness, reserved solely for Tobio. All for him, all because of him. It was scary almost, how much he cared for him; how he sat with his chest pulled open, layers of muscle and skin torn apart to give way to his ribs, the bones pulled out so he could give his bleeding heart to Tobio. Just to see a smile.</p><p>If that was the price of good days for Tobio, he would pay it, hands dripping with the blood of his offering.</p><p>Maybe this was all he was built to do—to give. To give to Tobio.</p><p>The younger boy suddenly grabbed him by his suit, pulling him close, a sense of courtesy vacant in his desperate, shaking hands as he brought their two figures into a hug that wrenched open all the wounds Atsumu had tried to pave over with selflessness. With kind words and Atsumu’s cupidity locked up in crevices of his soul that no one should be able to access. But Tobio was good at things like that, it seemed—good at stealing parts of Atsumu that he was not yet ready to give away.</p><p>“He doesn’t want me.” Tobio’s breath hitched, voice breaking off into a stifled sob as his fingers dug into Atsumu’s back, “Why doesn’t he ever want me, Miya-san?”</p><p>It was just a simple question, made of words that should not mean so much to him. But it broke Atsumu’s heart to hear the tremble in Tobio’s voice, the fragmented chords of utter desolation cutting through his larynx like shards of glass. The same glass gashing through Atsumu’s every defense as he traced soothing patterns along the silk of the back of Tobio’s suit, tucking the Gryffindor beater’s head into the crook of his neck.</p><p>“Then he’s a fool,” Atsumu tried to stop the shaking of his own voice, the vibrations of agitation, because how dare Oikawa hurt Tobio. How fucking dare he. Didn’t he know how lucky he was? “He’s a fool who ain’t never deserved ya’.”</p><p>“But how do you know that?” Tobio snapped, and Atsumu knew he wasn’t mad at him. He knew that, just as much as he knew that he had selfish intentions, a view that was a little biased.</p><p>He wanted to say it, wanted to scream it so the entire castle could hear it, Tooru-kun included: <em>‘cause I want ya’. ‘Cause I fuckin’ want ya’, Tobio-kun. ‘Cause I’ll always want ya’ in a way no one else could ever hope to replicate.</em></p><p>But he also knew that would be unfair. Unwarranted. It would be so unbelievably selfish to thrust his own heavy confessions onto Tobio’s trembling shoulders, already tired from carrying the cross of rejection, already tired from being teased and mocked and thrown aside one too many times. How cruel would that be? To give more conflict to a mind that wanted comfort, that needed a friend, a shoulder to cry on? Atsumu couldn’t do that; it was never in his nature to be cruel.</p><p>So he did just that: he became the friend Tobio needed.</p><p>“Cause I’m yer friend, Tobio-kun!” Atsumu held him by the collar, fingers curled up in the soft fabric as he stared into those azure eyes, so red around the rim that it made his chest constrict, “And friends don’t lie to each other. So just trust me, ‘kay?”</p><p>He got a little murmur in response, which is not entirely clear, but Tobio sunk back into his arms so he assumed that did the trick.</p><p>And he held him. That was all he could do. Hold Tobio until the tears stopped flowing, until his shoulders stopped shaking, until his throat and tongue became too dry to host wails any longer. He pushed back Tobio’s bangs, thin strands stuck to his forehead, drenched in sweat, hand skittering down his face to caress reddened and inflamed cheeks.</p><p>Atsumu sighed, “S’gonna hurt...yer cheeks I mean.”</p><p>Tobio just shrugged.</p><p>“Lemme heal ‘em up for ya’.” Atsumu reached for his wand, a familiarity that he didn’t really want, present in his movements, “<em>Episkey</em>.”</p><p>As Tobio’s face healed, he couldn’t help but wish that they wouldn’t make a tradition out of this. He didn’t think he could handle seeing Tobio cry so often.</p><p>“Ya’ wanna go back in there?” Atsumu’s eyes trailed to the hall where couples dancing could still be seen, a stark contrast to two boys alone in a hallway, wiping tears and half-sharing sob stories. Tobio seemed to recoil at the very suggestion of it.</p><p>“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” His voice was rough, strained. Atsumu wanted to kiss the column of his neck, the line where his adam’s apple bobbed, wanted to heal his aching voice through his delicate skin.</p><p>But he couldn’t. So he chose the next best thing.</p><p>“Quidditch?”</p><p>A flicker of joy ran across the features of Tobio’s face, the edge of his lips curling up ever so slightly. Not enough for most people to have noticed, but Atsumu was not most people, and he noted that little flame of competition burn away in Tobio's eyes. That was what he liked to see: Tobio looking like a bird let out of his cage, ready to take to the skies and do what he did best—soar.</p><p>He swallowed down the taste of firewhisky and heartbreak that still lingered on his tongue, putting on that trademark smirk, “Race ya’ to the pitch.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Cold, winter air nipped at their vulnerable bodies, suit jackets dumped somewhere on the ground, Atsumu’s tie undone, Tobio’s sleeves rolled up to allow for more agility as he sped past on his broom, looping around, free arm propelling the quaffle past Atsumu’s defence.</p><p>A beaming smile broke onto Tobio’s face upon seeing that he had scored, and it was like a beacon of warmth, melting through whatever powers the snow thought it possessed. Nature’s prowess was useless against an enigma like Kageyama Tobio, so full of life that it made Atsumu’s insides sing with want. Christ, there his heart went again, yearning for a boy that didn’t want him.</p><p>Atsumu stared down at his broom, at the point where his pinkened fingers clutched at the wood, stiff and aching and tired of the brumal weather they were being subjected to. He sighed, no longer able to wiggle his toes, feet feeling uncomfortably cold, to the extreme that they felt soaked almost. Tilting his broom’s nose downwards, he headed towards the ground, followed closely by Tobio’s whose face looked like the cold had bitten its every surface, sharp edges dusted in red, flushed to the point of concern.</p><p>“Bloody winter,” Atsumu grumbled mostly to himself, feet meeting the ground. He pulled Tobio towards himself, trying to settle the shakes currently working their way through the younger boy’s body, “We gotta get ya’ warmed up.”</p><p>“Can’t go to our common rooms,” Tobio managed to stutter, teeth chattering relentlessly, “The prefects would flip if I snuck you in tonight. Plus, I heard the professors keep a close eye on people going in and out on nights like these.”</p><p>“What? They worried people are gonna be fuckin’ or somethin?” Atsumu chuckled at the idea that the teachers were naive enough to think restricting common rooms until after the ball would stop people getting laid. They were teenagers presented with a bunch of foriegn kids their age and a huge castle with plenty of hiding places; who was gonna stop them? A bunch of professors who couldn’t even stop alcohol getting snuck in? The thought really cracked him up.</p><p>“Precisely.” Tobio stared up at the sky, twiddling his thumbs, and Atsumu couldn’t tell if his face had gotten redder, or if it was just his imagination.</p><p>Either way, he had to find a way out of this cold so they could warm up before they fell ill. And that was when it hit him like a freight train.</p><p>“I’ve got just the place; there ain’t no way they’d find us in there.” Atsumu announced, face splitting into a grin as he grabbed Tobio’s hand—slender, smaller, a perfect fit for his—and dragged him back inside, almost forgetting their brooms and jackets out in the snow.</p><p>The expansive hallways were mostly abandoned, save for the many ghosts Hogwarts was host to and the odd pet scrambling around on the floor. The more stairs they climbed and hallways they passed, the quieter the castle got, to the point where paintings would complain about their loud footsteps, echoing in the silence of the empty halls.</p><p>Atsumu kept his firm grip looped around Tobio’s wrist, surprised at the lack of protest from the younger boy. He must have been really cold to just go along with one of Atsumu’s suggestions without even a hint of reservation. When they finally reached the seventh floor, Atsumu led Tobio to the stretch of bare wall in between two large vases, finding the younger boy staring at the massive, moving tapestry depicting trolls learning to dance. A hushed laugh made its way from Tobio’s lips, flipping Atsumu’s stomach on itself and then disappearing without a trace.</p><p>“So, what are we looking for?” Tobio asked, forcing Atsumu to focus again.</p><p>He looked at the space between the Gryffindor beater and the wall, “Ya’ haven’t heard of the Room of Requirement?”</p><p>Tobio tilted his head, a look that screamed ‘what the hell are you on about’, knitted into his brows and frown. Atsumu merely chuckled.</p><p>“Watch this.” The older boy’s mouth twisted into an excited leer as he slowly backed away, before sprinting up and down the hallway, drinking in the cute look of confusion painted all over Tobio’s face.</p><p>Atsumu thought of warmth for Tobio’s cold body, thought of coziness to shelter them from the snow, thought of gentle music and candle lights, a perfect retreat from the bustling ball continuing elsewhere in the castle; he thought of galaxies and how they would dull in comparison to the sparkle he hoped to bring to Tobio’s eyes—a deep blue, like the night sky.</p><p>After the third lap, he came to a halt, standing beside Tobio as a door materialised on the previously bare wall, swinging open to let them in.</p><p>He stepped forwards, looking back at Tobio over his shoulder, heart swooning at the cute way his eyes widened, mouth parting as a hushed <em>‘oh’ </em>slipped from his lips, “Ya’ comin?”</p><p>Atsumu didn’t wait for a response, disappearing into the room, somehow sure that Tobio would follow him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tobio let out a sigh, staring out into the stillness of the empty hallways surrounding him, and then at Atsumu's back, retreating into the room that had emerged before them. The night air still harmonised with melodies sounding from the great hall many floors down, filled with cheers and whooping and the general rowdiness of teenagers let loose, of a night Tobio was supposed to enjoy, now tarnished by his inexplainable need to fuck up a good thing. He had ruined the night for Atsumu too, Atsumu who should be back at the ball, with his friends, with a date—enjoying himself, not picking up the pieces Tobio had broken a very long time ago.</p><p>"Tobio-kun, will ya' get yer ass in here already!"</p><p>The raucous call came from inside the room, faint golden light glowing through the edges, inviting enough for Tobio to trudge through, closing the door behind himself.</p><p>To call what lay on the other side a wonderment, would be an understatement.</p><p>The room was snug, and small, the type of room Kazuyo would watch quidditch with Tobio and Miwa in. Cobbled slabs of granite interlocked to form a tall column that housed a fireplace, flickers of titian and cantaloupe and cardinal crackling along kindling as cinders danced with silvery ash. The mantle was decorated with quidditch trinkets, a golden snitch settled comfortably between seeker's gloves and a miniature broom, a Wizard's Chess set placed to the side. Candles floated throughout the room, each emitting a gentle, hazy, aurelian glow, points of warmth that pooled into Tobio's chest. An old gramophone sat on a mahogany desk not so far from the fireplace, curtains pulled over a large window, hiding them from the outside world.</p><p>Then there was the ceiling—<em>Jesus</em>.</p><p>Dusky denim-blue hung like translucent silk, a canvas for splatters of galaxies, alabaster, amaranthine, azure. Stars sewed into the fabric of the night shone like diamonds and jewels, and Tobio's chest swelled at the way constellations dipped and danced amongst the softened neon luminosity of streaks of aurora—rosy and emerald and everlasting.</p><p>"I mighta got distracted by the third lap," Atsumu's voice sheepishly sounded from across the room, and Tobio turned to face him, "S'why the ceiling's all weird."</p><p>He sat on the couch, tie and jacket hanging off the side, and a gentle smile on his face. That <em>smile</em>—Tobio's mouth felt drier than it was before—that smile was somehow more troublesome than the smirk Atsumu would shoot him before a match. Tobio could only look back in wonder at everything that they were surrounded by, the warmth of the fireplace sinking into his bloodstream.</p><p>"You made this happen?" He asked, voice barely making its way from his mouth.</p><p>Atsumu stood, and Tobio noted the faintest pink lining his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck, "Well, the room just changes into whatever ya' ask, 'n I just thought up the homiest place I could." And then he stooped, words a little more delicate, features carefully put together, "D'ya like it?"</p><p><em>Like it?</em> Tobio wanted to laugh, in fact, he was pretty sure he did. His heart rattled in his chest, confined in ribs smouldering with heat, skin prickling with rushing blood that was bewitched by the flames that twisted and turned and swayed to their own music, casting out long shadows onto the fluffy carpet beneath their feet. Honestly, how could Atsumu ask that? How could he ask that like Tobio's face wasn't flushed a gentle rosy shade—dahlias coating the tips of his ears? How could he ask that like the answer wasn’t obvious?</p><p>"I love it." Tobio admitted, the words quiet and sincere, etching their way into the walls of this room—this room, for him. For him, from Atsumu. "Thank you, Miya-san."</p><p>Atsumu's shoulders relaxed, but he kept his gaze locked on the fireplace, trying to find the secrets of the universe in his flames as his pink lips curled into a faint grin. Then it was gone again, gone far sooner than Tobio would have liked it to be. He didn't know <em>why</em> that was, it just <em>was</em>. He was learning that countless things existed without answer, perhaps even without the need for an answer. Maybe Miya Atsumu was one of those timeless things, infinite and unexplainable—made to merely be there, to tangle himself with the threads of Tobio's soul like he held some claim on his existence.</p><p>"Since I was so nice to ya', maybe ya' could do me a favour here Tobio," Atsumu slipped his arm around Tobio's shoulders, dragging him along, "Quit it with Miya-san. I've got a name y'know."</p><p>Tobio just rolled his eyes, a huff of a laugh escaping him. He really never knew when to give up. But Tobio knew he was just dragging this on, Atsumu hadn’t been just Miya in his mind for a very long time now. Still, he shrugged, perfectly content with teasing the older boy sometimes too.</p><p>Atsumu let out a dramatic sigh, turning away and walking over to the gramophone.</p><p>“Fine, if yer gonna be like that, perhaps a different favour would suit ya’?” Tobio couldn’t see what he was doing, but the scratch of a needle meeting a disk tipped him off. Atsumu faced him again, a hand stretched out, “Dance with me, Tobio-kun?”</p><p>Tobio didn't know where all the air in his lungs disappeared to, because all of a sudden he couldn't breathe. Something about this moment was momentous, stomach contorting in on itself, that accursed warmth from earlier blazing like a Horntail's breath. Tobio's chest felt hollow, his heart suspended in nothingness, thumping so hard it was the only thing he could hear. It felt like Atsumu had cast a hex on him, like his very words had snaked their way into Tobio's consciousness, whispering sweet nothings into the crevices of his mind.</p><p>Suddenly, he was nothing but want. And that want clasped onto Atsumu's hand, allowing him to pull him in close. A touch like pure fire scalded through his waistcoat when it settled there, and Tobio felt like he was a piece of firewood, tossed into the furnace to keep Atsumu warm. Atsumu who gripped him by the hips, like something so utterly breakable, and it made him feel so choked up that it should be impossible.</p><p>How could he touch him like that? With such tenderness and care, in a way that no one ever did before him. How could Atsumu wipe his tears away without hesitation? How could he call them friends when no one else ever wanted something like that from a boy like Tobio—a boy who didn't know up from down, didn't know when to smile or what to say, a boy who was unwanted by all those he had chased after?</p><p>"Yer thinkin' too hard." Atsumu whispered, looking down at Tobio with those pools of honey and chocolate, filled with something the younger boy didn't know how to place. Something too bright and blazing and hot—hot enough to sear through Tobio’s every defense.</p><p>“I’m not.” He protested, unable to meet that gaze any longer, afraid that his knees may buckle under its gravity.</p><p>Atsumu frowned, “Please, ya’ look like yer thinkin’ up quidditch strategies to play against every team at once.” A hand cupped Tobio’s cheek, thumb then dropping to map the expanse of his jaw with ease, “It’s that furrow in your brows. Really gives ya’ away” (Then, his face pulled seriously, voice hushed), “Just relax and dance.”</p><p>It was easier said than done, but Atsumu had some enchanting quality about him, and Tobio was too weak to gripe when the older boy sounded so genuine—so full of warmth that it was terrifying. So he gave in, sinking into his touch, lips pressed tight as his gaze dipped to Atsumu’s shirt, tight on him with the top few buttons undone. Tobio wasn’t entirely sure why the fleeting sight of Atsumu’s chest made his face flush with heat.</p><p>The song was one he didn’t recognise, and was probably from a muggle singer, but it still made him feel lighter; the words and melody twisting around their figures like a rope, binding them to one another.</p><p>Atsumu gave him a lopsided grin and Tobio knew instantly that something was up, but he was already being spun before he could question it. The room around him blurred, before he found himself back in Atsumu’s arms, pressed flush to his chest, the vibrations of his laughter causing it to rise and fall. Tobio just smiled; he found that a lot easier to do around the Slytherin beater. He stared up at Atsumu from his chest, appreciating the way the radiance of candle-light created a halo of lucent halcyon around his blond locks. The fireplace created shadows across his face, only adding to how well-structured it was. The incline of his jaw and nose, the fullness of his well-shaped brows, the gleam in his hazel eyes, hooded and masked by long lashes: all of it made Tobio realise just how handsome Atsumu was.</p><p>And a part of him already knew that, but the thought had never made itself so clear before, even when other students would fawn over Atsumu’s good looks. Not until now; not until this private moment.</p><p>As they swayed in each other's embrace, Tobio drank in the sight of the older boy, and he could not help but note how pretty his lips were, shaped with soft lines and all the things Tobio liked. The want was back, seeping through Tobio’s every pore—raging and on a rampage; his mind was nothing more than thoughts of Atsumu, Atsumu, <em>Atsumu</em>.</p><p>He felt all too hot under the collar, choosing to look away and cool down—maybe it was the fireplace, maybe he should put it out—but the decision was obstructed by the growth of a plant in the space above their heads, leafs and small flowers curling in on each other, suspended in the air—a mistletoe. Now Kageyama Tobio was not the most socially adept person in Hogwarts, that was for sure, but even he knew what the fuck mistletoe meant to the people standing under it and that much must have been evident to Atsumu, judging from the awkward look he gave him.</p><p>It must have been his ridiculously bright blush; that must have given him away. Curse that godforsaken fireplace, making all his emotions so easy to read, causing all this damn heat to flush his cheeks.</p><p>Atsumu shifted his weight on his feet, biting down on his lip as he kept his gaze on the ceiling above, “M’not entirely sure where that came from.” He sounded oddly faint, like there wasn’t enough breath in his lungs to sustain the words he wished to speak, “But...it’s only traditional ta’ kiss.”</p><p>Tobio felt himself stiffen at that word, like a fucking child who grew shy at the mention of anything intimate. But maybe that’s all he was: a boy way in over his head. And maybe he liked that feeling: the lightheadedness of being in subspace, the anticipation of what would happen next, the dull ache settling on his stomach. He was a mere phantom stood before Atsumu, a flickering projection of the boy that is Kageyama Tobio, unmade thoughts and confused decisions—all for him to run his hands through and collect little parts of him like trinkets.</p><p>“If it's traditional…” Tobio’s voice shook. Christ. Why was he so nervous? They were friends; friends had nothing to be nervous about with one another, “I guess we might as well.”</p><p>Atsumu let out a faint, congealed sound, barely audible to even Tobio, who was still pressed against him. His adam’s apple shifted harshly as he swallowed, breathing out something along the lines of ‘okay’, a shaky hand moving up from Tobio’s hip to his chin.</p><p>Tobio instinctively shut his eyes, etching the image of Atsumu looking down at him, coloured in all the gold in the world, on the underside of his lids.</p><p>A press of lips to the space between his brows sent a shiver down his spine, his knees growing weaker by the second, almost buckling when hot lips touched the tip of his nose before lingering against his cupid’s bow.</p><p>Tobio’s mouth felt cold, craving the warmth that only Atsumu could provide. The warmth that was currently being shared through soft exhales that were simply not enough.</p><p>“Can I kiss ya’, Tobio-kun?”</p><p>Tobio’s body felt too heavy for his legs, and he hoped Atsumu couldn’t tell that he had left his entire weight in his grip, trusting that he would hold him with some sort of otherworldly gentleness.</p><p>He said yes. Of course he said yes. He said yes and hoped that Atsumu would take as much as he had given.</p><p>Instead, Atsumu kissed him in a featherlight motion, something too soft to even exist, and a part of Tobio wanted to scream. A part of him wanted to yell, yell at the utter tenderness of his gesture, the way heat had soaked his insides, waiting for Atsumu to strike him with a match and set him alight.</p><p>The strike never came, and Atsumu pulled away, red to the tip of his ears. Tobio could tell his face was a mirror of Atsumu’s, painted in carmines and scarlets and pinks.</p><p>The mistletoe shriveled away, and Atsumu smiled, a little different to the usual carefree looks he would give.</p><p>“Guess it's done its job.” Tobio commented, pressing his lips into a thin line, ignoring the feeling of emptiness growing from the deepest depths of his being, “Thank you?”</p><p>Atsumu stared at him in disbelief, before bursting into a fit of laughter, shoulders shaking and tears forming in his eyes. Tobio wrinkled his face in embarrassment, grabbing Atsumu as he stuttered through a babbling explanation, though that was swiftly cut off as Atsumu tripped, bringing them both down to meet the rug. His chest rose with a great effort, not yet recovered from his amusement.</p><p>“Thank you.” He mimicked, wheezing harshly, “I kissed ya! That’s not what yer s’posed ta’ say!”</p><p>“Then what did you want me to say?” Tobio whined, rolling onto his back, too embarrassed to face Atsumu.</p><p>There was quiet for a while as the pair of them stared up at the ceiling projection of the night sky.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>What did Atsumu want him to say?</p><p>He watched as constellations broke apart and joined to form new ones, shooting stars falling from the heavens, casting pale light onto Tobio’s face. The sparkle reflected in his eyes, the perfect backdrop for the sky, holding everything that Atsumu wished was in his hands, in his arms, in the crevices of his heart.</p><p>He wasn’t even sure what he would have liked to hear.</p><p>Maybe, <em>that was good</em>. An honest admission that Tobio liked feeling Atsumu against him. Maybe, <em>do it again</em>. A desperate desire to keep Atsumu close, like he was all Tobio had ever wanted, ever needed. Eager, hasty hands, cupping his face to bring them back together, to join their lips once again. Maybe, <em>I like you</em>. A harsh breath of words that Atsumu would do anything for. An admittance that Tobio, too, craved for him. A confirmation that they could have it all; could have each other because they <em>wanted</em> each other.</p><p>But he said none of that.</p><p>Instead, he settled for, “I don’t know, Tobio-kun. Wish I did.”</p><p>And he watched the moon, reflected in Tobio’s eyes, the starlight dull when compared to his smile.</p><p>Then Tobio turned to look at him and Atsumu’s heart caught in his throat, like a willow flayed in the wind.</p><p>“Then I’ll say thank you again,” A smile, that genuine one that Atsumu had wanted to kiss the hell out of a million times, grew on his lips, “Thank you for being my friend...Atsumu-san.”</p><p>Atsumu’s heart wavered at the sentiment. At his name, his first name, finally being spoken by Tobio like it was made for him. He’d never heard it sound so good, so sweet, so right.</p><p>He moved to speak but the words got caught in his throat, and his eyes were watery again, so he looked away, feelings of yearning and wanting, escaping him through his tear ducts, tearing parts of him apart on their way out.</p><p>Friend. The word brought both peace and war to the shore of Atsumu’s soul.</p><p>War for the obvious reasons. Destruction and hellfire raining from above; cities of his desires crumbling to their knees. Bloodshed and combat and strife, all bubbling and exploding for one single reason—Atsumu’s hunger for more. His unyielding ardor to be more to Kageyama Tobio—more than a mere friend.</p><p>Peace for everything they had in common. Friendly relationships built for the first time by teams that were the first to accept them. Atsumu had learnt of Tobio’s previous team, heard rumors about him from other Slytherins, had suspicions confirmed by Tobio’s behaviour, by how he cherished the term friend like it was something holy. Atsumu would never admit it, but he never had that great of an amount of friends. People didn’t like his brash personality, and really, he didn’t care. If they couldn't handle him, screw ‘em. But then came the current Slytherin quidditch team, closer to friends than he had ever had. Suddenly it wasn’t just him and Osamu, just like it hadn’t been just Tobio anymore.</p><p>But being Tobio’s friend was different. They weren’t on the same team; they reached out to one another. This was a friendship forged out of mutual love, similar pasts, and the wanting to have more.</p><p>And yet, that, unique as it was, was not enough for Atsumu.</p><p>“Thanks, Tobio-kun. For bein’ my friend too.” Atsumu whispered, keeping the request for more to himself.</p><p>Tobio yawned, turning onto his side, forehead pressed to Atsumu’s shoulder, eyes drifting shut. Atsumu sucked in a sharp breath, daring to place a hand over his waist, pulling them into a hug, figures huddled by the fireplace. Tobio’s breath tingled against his neck, long lashes skittering against his bare skin, like fleeting kisses. Atsumu sighed, stroking Tobio’s hair as the younger boy held him by the shirt, a blanket settling over their figures. Tobio must have wished for that right about now.</p><p>“Goodnight, Atsumu-san.”</p><p>“Night, Tobio-kun.”</p><p>Atsumu let his eyes drift shut, reveling in the way their bodies fit together, as he committed this night to memory. Precious thoughts of Tobio leading him into his beguiling dreams, to worlds in which he could call him his.</p><p>And if he dreamt of kissing Tobio a million more times, that was for him to know and no one else to ever find out.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(And maybe Tobio didn’t actually fall asleep until after Atsumu, watching the way the older boy faintly smiled in his sleep. Maybe he found himself finding solace in how peaceful Atsumu was. Maybe he thought of their encounter in the hallway outside the Great Hall mere hours ago, and how this hug now, was an offspring of that hug then. Maybe he ran a hand up Atsumu's back, content with the cerise of his suit, much more comforting than an empty white. Maybe he let his fingers skitter over his freshly trimmed undercut, tangle with blond locks, soft against his fingers as he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace that their bodies held together. And maybe he dreamt of warm lips and lazy smirks that night, living with shards of Atsumu’s being, lodged in his chest).</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Atsumu woke up first the next morning, and took the time to indulge in Tobio’s presence, before he woke and the two of them had to return to their respective common rooms.</p><p>If he had accidentally grabbed the wrong suit jacket in his hurry, prompting merciless teasing from his brother and wolf whistles, well, he would quietly return the jacket after vehemently denying all accusations, all the while wishing that he had the night everyone seemed to think he had.</p><p>That he had pieces of Tobio’s heart in exchange for his own.</p><p>That Tobio would call him more than just a friend.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tobio had been feeling that twinging want more often as the year went on.</p><p>It hit him again on a day like no other, when he was holed up in the library, seated at a table by the window with Atsumu opposite to him. Sunlight streamed through the glass like liquid gold, auric effulgence settling on the features of Atsumu’s face, and his eyelashes mingled with the light as his eyes skimmed over the pages of Tobio’s charms textbook. Something about it was beautiful.</p><p>Now, Tobio was great at quidditch, so riding a broom was his best magical skill. Spells and potions themselves were not too bad, it was all a case of memorisation, something he prided himself on. But charms and transfiguration? He was shit at them, to put a fine point on it. Usually he would ask Yachi to help him and Hinata, but the two of them had fucked off, most likely being all lovey-dovey with their respective sweethearts. So Tobio had Atsumu.</p><p>Atsumu didn’t entirely seem like someone who was good at school, but surprisingly, the boy was talented in all magical aspects, something Tobio couldn’t say for himself. Plus, he was a whole year older and had taken his OWLs the previous year. Surely if <em>anyone</em> could help him, it would be Atsumu.</p><p>But it wasn’t the patience Atsumu displayed whilst carefully explaining the subject matter that made Tobio’s chest prick with undefined feelings; it wasn’t the way his tongue peeked out the corner of his mouth when he concentrated, those well manicured brows furrowed as he read over Tobio’s workbook; it wasn’t the way he praised Tobio when he actually got something right, ruffling his hair because by now it was second nature. Those things all played into it, but something else was the final nail in the coffin.</p><p>It was the sight of Sumi, nuzzling her head against Atsumu’s forearm, purring when he scratched her neck, trying her best to win her attention, that got him. It shocked Tobio, because Sumi was difficult with everyone but him; she didn’t even like the rest of his roommates, yet she liked Atsumu. She liked him so much that they were inseparable, and Atsumu kept baby-talking to the kitten, stroking her black fur and cooing <em>‘Mi-chan’</em> whenever she meowed at him.</p><p>The entire exchange was so full of care that it made Tobio’s heart swell with gratitude for having Atsumu here.</p><p>And as they studied until the moon sat high in the sky, those feelings took root, probing somewhere deeper in the soil of his emotions—somewhere straying from the boundary of friendship.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The second time Tobio was hit with those feelings was on a June afternoon, the buzz of a quidditch match still crackling through his veins.</p><p>Sweat trickled down his reddened face, too warm for his overheated body, arms heavy from how much they had swung, until the very last minute that is, creating the perfect path for Nishinoya to get that golden snitch and end their game. His chest felt empty, air forcing its way through as he panted, now standing by the gate to the grounds, with Oikawa Tooru across from him—finally defeated.</p><p>The air around them was tense, so still that the electricity crackling between them could be heard sizzling away, as the world became thick with tension. Tobio had finally done it. He had beaten Oikawa, the points that Gryffindor had accumulated brought them one step closer to holding the House Cup in their hands—he had finally proved they were equals, right?</p><p>Then why the fuck did it feel so bad? Why did his tongue feel like it wasn’t made for his mouth? Why did he want to bury himself under the ground, hide away, anything to escape the bitter and contemptuous glare Oikawa had locked onto him?</p><p>In loss, Tobio was not good enough for him, unable to latch onto the blue of his jersey.</p><p>In victory, Tobio was suddenly too good for him, a threat that should be stifled at the first given chance.</p><p>With Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio could never truly win—not his heart, never. That prize was off limits.</p><p>Surely this was his last chance to prove himself, Oikawa wouldn’t be at Hogwarts next year, entering the real world as an adult, leaving the child that was Tobio to bumble around on his own—to chase after him until the earth’s end. So why couldn’t he fucking say something? Why couldn’t he speak before their chase began again?</p><p>And maybe Tobio didn’t feel like chasing something unattainable; maybe he wanted to fly side by side with someone who respected him as an equal.</p><p>It was Oikawa who finally spoke, pushing his damp hazel hair out of his eyes, “That’s us tied. Don’t get cocky now, Tobio-chan. ‘Cause I’ll beat you next time.”</p><p>Tobio released the breath that he had been holding, and yet his chest felt no lighter than before, burdened with his love for Oikawa. Burden...when had it become so tiring to love him?</p><p>Everything around them was tense again, air particles rigid, and Tobio moved to speak, to say something—anything.</p><p>But the cry of Tobio-kun and Miya Atsumu careening around the corner stopped him.</p><p>“Hope m’not disturbin’ nothing,” He slid next to Tobio, taking his hand with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible, shouldn't have been allowed to squeeze his heart so tight.</p><p>Tobio just shook his head, afraid of what may come out if he opened his mouth. And Atsumu beamed, before staring between the two of them.</p><p>“Y’all need ta’ lighten up! Ya’ just played a match, what’s got ya’ so depressed.”</p><p>How could he sound like that? So carefree? So happy? Like merely playing quidditch was enough, merely watching was enough. Tobio felt that sentiment resonate with the deepest parts of himself, Atsumu’s passion akin to his own, loosening the chains that unhealthy rivalry had bound to him.</p><p>“Thought ya’ knew how ta’ have fun Tooru-kun! Yer my go-to guy on this!” Atsumu teased, all easy smirks and joyful timbres.</p><p>Yet all the while his hand stayed wrapped around Tobio’s, sharing searing emotions through its every squeeze, setting fire to the arboretum Tobio had been carefully growing in his chest. Then he looked at him, really looked at him, with a bright smile and softened hazel eyes, so full of bliss and charm and cheer that Tobio may have drowned in their warmth—maybe he wanted to. Maybe he wanted Atsumu to steal parts of his soul through the way he was dragging his thumb across Tobio’s knuckles—a gesture full of kindness that the younger boy simply could not place.</p><p>And as if saving him from the post-match awkwardness with Oikawa, Atsumu simply said, “C’mon Tobio-kun, yer team probably wanna celebrate. I know I sure do.”</p><p>And then he was dragging him away, past Iwaizumi who rushed back to where Oikawa lingered. Tobio couldn’t find it in himself to care about that, however, not when his body felt so weak, so dainty in Atsumu’s palms. So safe.</p><p>He was full of wanting yet again.</p><p>Full of warmth that Miya Atsumu shared in every gesture.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The third time was at the end of the year, a hot mid-july evening, sticky air and humidity all around, but the feelings of discomfort were lost to yelling and whooping and the fireworks exploding against the midnight sky.</p><p>Aran had won the Triwizard Tournament, and the three schools were lost in celebrations, for a successful year, for international bonding, for the simple wonder of making new friends.</p><p>Tobio found himself with Atsumu, the two of them grabbing their brooms in the commotion and taking to the sky. He realised that he had stopped questioning all the things Atsumu dragged him along to do—maybe it was trust.</p><p>“C’mere Tobio, this is the best view.” Atsumu pulled Tobio’s broom closer, pointing out to horizon, made of sapphire and cobalt, bleeding into purple and ebony, a picturesque sight.</p><p>“We didn’t win the House Cup.” Tobio breathed out, thinking of how this was Daichi and Iwaizumi’s last chance at winning it, how their team would be forever changed after this, how he couldn’t carry them forward—to the finish line like he had promised.</p><p>“I know, Tobio-kun.” Atsumu whispered, softened expression practically ripping Tobio into shreds, “Nor did we...but there’s next year. There’s always next year.”</p><p>And he was right. There was always next year, so even if Daichi and Iwaizumi left now, even if things changed, they could always push forward.</p><p>Then came the bursts of colour, of vibrant lemon, aquamarine, jade and mulberry. Daisies bloomed in the sky, dragons made of sparks and synthetic colours danced, created from heliotropes. Orchids formed their wings, their fiery breath spelling out congratulations and exclaims of unity.</p><p>Tobio smiled, wider than ever before perhaps, turning to gush to Atsumu about the sight, but the reflections of colours against his skin, glowing in his iris, mauve and gold and dazzling, it all made his heart trip on itself. Falling yet again, faster than a golden snitch set wild. Faster than the fastest seeker. More powerful than Tobio’s swing.</p><p>Something deeper than quidditch—if that was even possible.</p><p>But fuck possibilty and chance, fuck conflicting emotions brewing in his chest: Atsumu was here, and so was he. They were here together, watching the sky glow with pretty pigments. So Tobio reached out, perhaps daringly, taking Atsumu’s hand into his own. He didn’t have the courage to meet Atsumu’s gaze, choosing to watch the skyline, squeezing his hand as a way of saying thanks.</p><p>
  <em>Thanks for playing quidditch with me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thanks for staying with me that night.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thanks for being my friend.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thanks for being you.</em>
</p><p>Atsumu squeezed his hand back, slender fingers fitting perfectly with his, and Tobio felt like maybe, just maybe, Atsumu knew exactly what he was trying to say.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That year, Yachi said goodbye to Kanoka, and promised to write letters. Hinata reached up to give Kenma a kiss on his forehead when they arrived at King’s Cross station. And Tobio?</p><p>Tobio watched Oikawa’s back walk away once more, but the hurt was anesthetized almost instantly, when Hinata dragged him down platform 9 ¾ , and the sight of the twins waving goodbye at the two of them, painted over any lingering scars Tobio had.</p><p>And it felt like a sunflower seed had been planted in the centre of his chest, where his heart began racing at the promise of “See ya’ later, Tobio-kun”.</p><p>On the way home, Tobio thought if something like that could grow, in someone like him—<em>for</em> someone like him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'M FINALLY BACK!</p><p>okay yes. i said i’d update in september. and yes, it’s january. and yes i started this story in august. BUT STILL. hogwarts atskg are my favourite.</p><p>i watched all the harry potter movies again prior to finishing this up and damn. nostalgia.<br/>but yea, tsumu is painfully whipped and tobio is a little behind in comprehending his feelings. disaster children.</p><p>i envisioned a completely different plot for the yule ball when i started this story back in august, but i honestly don’t think that would’ve worked as well. so maybe this is a little less angsty than i had intended, but i hope y’all enjoyed it. i think yearning is more painful than most angst anyway.</p><p>anyways,,,i hope y’all enjoyed this chapter! it felt really great to write hogwarts atsukage again, and i’m excited to tie this fic together and finish off next chapter.<br/>stay tuned for quidditch idiote finally <em>finally</em> getting their shit together.</p><p>ALSO...oikawa is my baby y’all. he has made mistakes but. he baby. forgive him. or else /lh 💃</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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